


Abbey Normal

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Drama, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Series: The Abbey Normal Chronicles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-04-11
Updated: 2000-04-11
Packaged: 2018-11-11 01:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11138577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: An old friend of Ray's returns to Chicago to help him catch a serial killer.





	Abbey Normal

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Abbey Normal

## Abbey Normal

by Kali Sandison

Author's disclaimer: Standard

Author's notes: Constructive criticism always welcomed.

* * *

Disclaimer: Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio and the other members of the 27th Precinct are property of Alliance. All other characters are mine. No infringement of any copyrights is intended. This story is written for the private enjoyment of Due South fans and not for monetary profit. Permission to use this story for profit is not given. 

Abbey Normal 

Lieutenant Harding Welch sat in his office, his head held in his hands, reading the memo on his desk, regretting the day he'd ever become a cop. It was bad enough that a serial killer was operating in the 27th Precinct. It was worse that the lead detective on this case, Ray Vecchio, was not up to his usual form what with his friend and unofficial partner, RCMP Constable Benton Fraser in Canada on temporary assignment. Now there was a memo from the Federal Bureau of Investigation informing him that they were sending him a profiler to help solve the murders. 

He hated head shrinkers. He hated federal agents coming into his precinct telling him how to run his investigations even worse. And now to hear that a psychologist from the FBI's Violent Crime's Task Force was about to invade on his turf...well it had his head pounding. The pounding was worsened by a rap on his door. 

"Come in," he groaned. 

"Lieutenent Welch, I'm Dr. Barnes. I believe you were expecting me." 

The veteral police officer looked up. What he saw before him was not what he was expecting. It was a woman of 35; five feet four inches in height. She appeared to be about 130 pounds of solid muscle. Her dark curly hair was cut short with a fringe of bangs hanging softly over her dark brown eyes. 

"You're Ab Barnes?" 

"Excuse me?" 

He waved his hand at the paper on his desk. "The memo said I'd be meeting with a Dr. Ab Barnes." 

"I believe there's been a typo. That should have read Dr. A. B. Barnes, as in Abigail Bigna." 

The lieutenent continued to stare at the woman who stood confidently and vibrantly in front of his desk. 

"Lieutenent, are you all right?" 

"I'm sorry Dr. Barnes. It's just that you're not who I expected." 

"Let me guess. You were expecting a short, fat, fifty year old white man with a receeding hairline." 

"Yeah, how'd you know?" 

"I know how people think. That's what the FBI pays me for. And right now you're thinking that that you can handle this one on your own and don't really need the services of a federal agent." 

"Dr. Barnes, are you reading my mind?" 

"No sir. Agents Maddox and Ford decided to 'brief' me about the 27th before I came over here. But I assure you the reaction isn't unusual. I get it a lot. Let me promise you that although I do have arrest powers, that's not really my thing. I prefer to work with the police of local jurisdiction; not usurp their power. I try to point them in the right direction and then stand back and let them do their job. I'm also authorized to put the resources of the FBI at your disposal. We do have a fairly awesome forensics team. Now, how soon can I get started?" 

The petite woman had managed to gain his grudging respect in the matter of a few minutes. She certainly cut to the heart of the matter and she seemed to be all business. 

"Would you be able to start now?" 

"At your disposal." 

She took a few minutes to share with him the information that would be pertinent to the investigation. 

"Now let me introduce you to the detective who's heading up the investigation. And he'll show you around," Welch replied when she finished her briefing. 

"Ray," he yelled out to the three men standing around a desk. "In my office." 

The tall young detective sauntered into his commander's office. 

"Yes sir?" 

Welch motioned to the corner where the FBI agent stood. "This is..." 

"Abbey? Abbey Normal?" 

Dr. Barnes looked up and made an instant recognition. "Ray Vecchio! My God, no one's called me Abbey Normal in years." She flung her arms around the startled detective and gave him a powerful bear hug. 

Welch smiled to himself. "This might work out better than I thought," he muttered to himself. 

"Sir?" Ray asked. 

"I see you two know each other." 

"Yes sir. We went to junior high and high school together. But we haven't seen each other in the seventeen years since graduation," Ray answered and then looked at Abbey. "What are you doing here?" 

"Dr. Barnes is a profiler for the FBI, here to help us with the serial murderer," the detective answered. 

"Doctor Barnes? And you're a Fed?" 

"Yeah, and you're a damn flat foot, so get over it." 

The lieutenent had never heard anyone outside the Veccio family take that tone with the detective and get away with it. He held his breath nervously. Perhaps this wasn't going to work out after all. 

"Are those doctor's orders?" Ray asked sarcastically. 

Quick as a wink she grabbed his ear and pulled his head down to look at her in the eye. 'Yes' was all she said and then let go, staring at him defiantly. It was something she'd seen his mother do at least a hundred times and she'd done it occasionally when they'd known each other in school. 

"Let's go to my desk and we can discuss the case," he said meekly. 

"If you need anything, Doctor Barnes, just let me know." 

"Thank you, lieutenent. I appreciate your cooperation." 

Ray led the way to his desk. Once seated, he looked at the petite woman who sat next to him with amazement. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"I think we just discussed this, Ray." 

"No, I mean how did you end up with the FBI as a profiler." 

"It's a long story, Ray. If you don't mind, I'd like to get started looking at what you've got on the case so far. And then, I want to meet with all the detectives who are working on the case." 

"Well, we don't have much. But what we have is in this file." 

He handed her a manilla folder. He was right. Very little information. No witnesses. Only two bodies found so far. Abbey was certain that the killer was someone she'd been tracking all over Illinois. The victims so far had all been homosexual men, their bodies found in a dumpster next to a bar that was located in a college town. She noticed that no one in Chicago had made the gay connection. She put the folder down, looked at her old buddy and told him what she'd learned from the other towns. He wasn't so sure that it was the same perpetrator. Though there were obvious similarities, the bar in Chicago was no where near a college campus. 

"Well, in most small to medium sized midwestern towns where there is an active gay community, it generally congregates around a college campus if there is one. Our killer may have decided to take on the big city and see what it had to offer." She looked at the picture of the latest victim. He'd been killed in exactly the same manner as the others, his penis was cut off and a hunting knife was buried hilt deep in his rectum. Despite all her years of witnessing it, she never quite got over such graphic representations of man's inhumanity to man. She shut the folder deliberately, as if by covering the picture, she could remove the scene from her mind. 

"You okay?" Ray asked. 

She shook her head. "Sick, perverted bastard," she muttered staring at the closed file for just a moment longer before she looked up. "I'd like to talk to the rest of the detectives now if I could." 

"Sure. I just heard Huey's voice so I think everyone's here." He stood up and led her out the center of the bullpen where four men were discussing the Bull's chances of winning the NBA Championship again. 

"Gentlemen," he said loudly trying to get their attention, "this is Dr. Abigail Barnes. She's a profiler on loan to us from our friends at the FBI." 

A chorus of groans rose from the group. 

"Yeah, I know. None of us are happy about having the feds in on this. But we've got orders to work with her so let's just make the best of it. Okay? "Abbey, this is Jack Hughes and Louis Gardino." 

There were muttered deprecations, none of which escaped Abbey's ears. 

"Okay detectives. I understand where you're coming from. I really do. And as I just told your lieutenent, I don't want to be underfoot anymore than you want me to be there. Think of me as the big picture person. I look at all the little bits of information that come in and try to organize it into one coherent profile and then let you go arrest the perp. In order to do this though, I need to know everything you come across. We've got to share information. I'll start." 

She began telling them what she'd learned in the other locales and the assumptions she'd made so far. When she got to the part about the men being homosexual, gay bashing comments were uttered. She shot the men a look that would have frozen water but did little to quiet the officers. 

"Detectives, that's just one piece of information. There are others. Let's move on," she commanded. 

Everyone was still for a brief moment but Detective Gardino decided to continue his harrangue about "saving the fairies". Abbey turned suddenly and slammed the heel of her hand into the offending officer's shoulder. He spun hard and probably would have fallen on his ass had the wall not been behind him. She was right in his face. 

"Perhaps you didn't hear me detective. I don't care if the victims are gay, straight, bi or even asexual. The fact is they're all dead. Now it's our job to find out who's responsible and bring that person to justice. Do I make myself clear?" 

Her voice had barely raised a decibel in volume. But the intensity exploded like a firecracker. It was all the other detectives could do not to laugh at the situation Louie had gotten himself into. Abigail was totally unaware of what was going on behind her back. She pinioned him with her stare and didn't look away until she had his compliance. 

Taking a quick deep breath, she returned to her former stance and continued to talk to the detectives. She hated having to make a power play so early in the game but at least now they knew exactly who they were dealing with. She'd long ago grown used to people judging her by her height and sex. In most casual situations, it didn't bother her. But professionally, it irked the hell out of her. 

She learned that the dumpster was being staked out. She knew from previous experience that this was probably a waste of time. So far, the murderer had never made more than two killings in a town. She wished, vehemently that someone had thought to call her as soon as the first murder had been committed. Though she thought highly of her employer, she was frustrated that the crime had slipped through the cracks. In hopes that the killer would stay in town for a while longer and maybe even return to his original M.O. of working near college campuses, she recommended that several other gay bars in town be staked out. 

When she was finished, she thanked them for their time and walked back to Ray's desk unescorted. The guys decided to have some fun and pick on Gardino for being such an easy mark. Though Ray joined in, mostly because he really loved giving Louie hell, he knew the truth. Abbey had always been a wildcat who gave as good as she got and then would give some more. But in the intervening years that fire had obviously been channeled and focused and he assumed it was now a lethal force. There was only one way to find out. 

Sauntering back to his desk, he flopped down in his chair. Abbey was sitting in the chair next to his desk muttering about ignorant, insensitive pricks. He assumed she was talking about his fellow detectives but chose not to press the issue and decided instead to try to distract her. 

"So, gorgeous, what are you doing for dinner tonight?" he asked softly 

"Did you have something in mind?" 

"Just takin' you out and showing you a good time." 

"Well, I'd like to go back to my hotel and freshen up a bit." 

"Let's go." 

"Lead on, Ray." 

The other detectives noticed the doctor walk out with Vecchio, which immediately caused speculation among them. They couldn't fathom Ray, of all people, was getting cozy with a federal agent, especially since she was a psychologist. Huey and Gardino both remembered what a fuss Ray made every time the department sent the detectives for their psychological evaluations. 

The ride back to her hotel was a quiet one. Abbey was thinking about the last time she had seen the man who was now sitting behind the wheel of a 1971 Buick Riviera. They'd just graduated high school. One of their classmates had a big party in the basement of her parents home. It was the last time she'd heard the name Abbey Normal, a joke he'd pulled from their first date back in 8th grade to see the movie "Young Frankenstein". 

They rode up the elevator still silent, not really knowing where to begin a conversation that had been interrupted for so long. She fumbled with the key card lock on the door to her suite, finally getting it to open. 

"So, where are we going to dinner?" she asked as she walked through to the bedroom to hang up her blazer. "Do I need to change clothes?" 

"Depends on what you're in the mood for." 

What she was in the mood for was to get laid. More thoughts of their last night together zipped into her memory, and made her wonder if he was still the marvelous kisser that he had been back in high school. Well, there was only one way to find out. 

When she turned around, she saw that he had removed his jacket and taken a seat on the small sofa in the sitting room. Good, that would minimize the height difference between them. She sat down next to him, kicked off her shoes and leaned back into the cushions. 

"Do you remember Lucy SanAngelo's graduation party? The game of truth or dare?" she asked him. 

He looked at her in amazement. "I was just going to ask you the same thing." 

"I still can't believe you kissed me like that." 

"Hey, it was either french kiss you or tell everybody what I did with Anne." 

"Oh, thank you so much for that little piece of information," she said sarcastically. "It makes me want to know what you two did that you felt like kissing me was the lesser of two evils." 

"Looking back it really wasn't anything; just a little heavy necking. But I wasn't about to let the word get out for fear her old man would find out about it." 

"So to protect little Anne's virtue, and your hide, you decided to kiss me." 

"Hey, I don't remember you objecting. In fact, if I recall properly, later that night, you and I did a little heavy necking of our own." 

"Yeah," she admitted quietly leaning closer to him. "What can I say? I was just a lonely, horney teenager who was hot for your bod." 

When he turned to look at her she took the opportunity to kiss him. He was taken aback at first but instantly got over his shock and returned her kiss with passion. She felt his tongue touch her lips tentatively. She opened them to allow him to explore her mouth more fully His tongue felt wonderful as he used it to coax hers into his mouth. It didn't take much coaxing. She moved her tongue expertly around his teeth and then traced the outline of his patrician lips with it. 

She placed one hand against his chest for balance and could feel his heart beating very fast. She knew her own pulse was accellerated and her breathing was heavy and erratic. She felt a familiar ache in her groin. She knew what she wanted but it had been a very long time since they'd seen each other and she didn't want to presume anything...yet. 

His hand ran through the dark curls on the back of her head, remembering how they used to be so much longer. But they still reminded him of strands of silk, no matter what their length. He wanted her and was reasonably certain that she wanted him as well, but they had seventeen years to catch up on. 

It was she who reluctantly broke the kiss though she did not pull away from him entirely. He rested his forehead against hers and gazed at her with soulful eyes. A part of him wanted to press forward with the activity that they had begun but he decided to play it cool instead and change the subject. 

"So are you still a sucker for good Greek food? 'Cause if you are, I know a wonderful place not too far from here." 

She took a deep breath and tried to think about food for a moment. She was certain she knew the restaurant he was referring to. And if she was right, she knew that he was correct about the place. 

"You remember? Wow, that's remarkable. Do they have a good Baaklava?" 

"The best in the city." 

"Well, then we have to go. But back to my original question. Do I need to change or is a navy blue gabardine pant suit appropriate?" 

He wanted desperately to see her legs but he knew that to wear a skirt to this place would be overdressed. "No, your outfit is fine." 

"Okay then, give me a minute to run through the necessary." 

The deep plush sofa had practically swallowed her petite frame so it was with great effort that she climbed out of it. Ray 'helped' by placing one hand on her butt and giving her a gentle shove. Once standing, she turned to look at him. 

"Thanks, Ray. You always were the chivalrous kind," she said mockingly. 

"Always happy to lend a hand," he retorted. 

Once she was in the bathroom, he too, stood up. Walking to the mirrored closet doors, he checked the fall of his trousers to make sure that his excitement was not visible. Fortunately, the pleats hid the bulge well and he knew that his suit coat was long enough to give added protection. He made sure he had that coat on before she joined him in the sitting room. 

He noticed that she'd changed out her conservative jewelry for something a little flashier and her once pale, sedate make up, was replaced by brighter colors. Her lips, in particular, caught his notice as they were now a vibrant red. She stopped at the closet and slipped on a pair of navy blue leather pumps with a higher heel than the flats she had worn to the station. Knowing she was sensitive about her height, he stiffled the laugh he felt as she suddenly got taller just by putting on shoes. He whistled appreciatively as she grabbed her purse and walked towards him. 

"Sufficient for a night out in the Windy City?" 

"Oh, yes. More than sufficient." 

The restaurant he took her to was not the one she recalled. She wondered if her once steel trap memory was going to hell. The restaurant was small and cozy. They were seated in a booth that was completely surrounded on three sides by walls and had only a small opening on the fourth. The candle on the table burned brightly, illuminating the dark wood that secluded them from their fellow patrons. 

"So," he asked casually, "what have you been doing since the last time I saw you? And how the hell did you end up with the FBI? I thought you were going to Harvard with plans to become a diplomat." 

She chuckled at his failing memory. "Yale, actually." 

"Harvard, Yale whatever. You've got me on pins and needles here. One night, we're makin' out in Lucy SanAngelo's basement and two weeks later you disappeared. What happened?" 

She sighed deeply knowing that it would be difficult to sum up everything that had gone on in her life since they'd groped each other that night. She'd thought about it often over the course of the intervening years. When she'd admitted to him earlier that she'd been lonely that night, she hadn't been kidding. 

"Okay, push back the clock to May, 1979. My parents had been murdered two months before and Aunt Shirley and Uncle Mike came up from Champaign to live with us 'til school was out." 

"Yeah, I remember. Everyone was so amazed that you were able to hold it together 'til graduation." 

"Well, after they were killed, I started thinking a lot about life and death, and all the things that go with it. I missed my parents terribly. They wanted so much for me. I was gonna be the first in our family to go to college. In the blink of an eye, it seemed like everything I had was taken away from me. And for what? The lousy hundred dollars in my dad's wallet, their wedding bands and the pearl necklace mom had worn every day for as long as I could remember. 

In a sense I knew it wasn't my fault that they died. But somehow I felt like I should have been able to prevent it. You know? I should have told them it wasn't a good night to go to a movie." 

"You're right. It wasn't your fault. How could you have known?" 

Abbey closed her eyes for a moment, not really wanting to get into that particular subject right now. 

"So there I was, standing at the podium on graduation day, making my valedictorian speech and I had an epiphany. Suddenly, going to some Ivy League college to study international politics seemed so frivolous. What does it matter that the Christians and the Muslims are at it again in the Middle East? For God's sake, people are being murdered right here in America. Let the damn foreigners work out their own problems. I had matters at home that needed to be solved. 

Anyway, the Monday after commencement, I applied to the police academy but they wouldn't have an opening in a class for nearly nine months. I couldn't wait that long. So I started making the rounds of the military recruiters. I'd taken the Armed Services Vocational Apptitude Battery while we were Juniors, just to get out of that boring history class with Mr. Lewis. The Air Force looked at my results and, liking what they saw, put me on a plane two weeks later for Lackland Air Force Base near San Antonio, Texas." 

"You joined the Air Force?" he asked incredulously. "The only person I know to get a perfect score of 1600 on her SAT's and you gave up Yale to join the Air Force?" 

"I did not get perfect score on my SAT's." 

"That's the story that went around school." 

"Well, the story was wrong." 

"So what'd you get?" 

She looked at the table and softly mumbled something. 

"What was that?" he prompted. 

Continuing to look at the table she raised her voice slightly and enunciated, "1598. I missed a math question." When she looked at him again, she could tell that he was totally exasperated with her. "Anyway, after six weeks of boot camp, I started training for my new career as a police officer. And after that it was just a series of transfers to bases all around the world." 

"So, how'd you get from the Air Force to the FBI and how did you get the name Barnes?" 

"Well, the Barnes part comes first. I married Alan Barnes. He was a marine corp sargent." 

"And where is Sargent Barnes now?" 

"Don't know, don't care." 

"Oh?" 

"We split up ten years ago. Truth be told, it was a mistake from the beginning but hey, when you're young and in lust, who can tell you anything?" 

"Okay, so how'd you become a profiler for the FBI?" 

"Well, while I was in the Air Force I started taking college classes, mostly by correspondance. I got my bachelor's degree in criminology and then my master's in psychology. I ended up stationed back in the States at Andrews Air Force Base, just south of D.C. There was a serial rapist loose in the area and a few of the victims were air force personnel. The FBI's V.C.T.F. was brought in and I helped with the investigation. We caught the perp, then one thing led to another and the FBI made me an offer. Three years later, I had my doctorate and a position in Atlanta with the task force." 

"And now you're here." 

"And now I'm here. 

"So what about you? What have you been doing?" 

He told her of his marriage to and divorce from Angie, his rise to detective with the CPD and his unusual 'partnership' with Fraser. 

Their waitress appeared with plates of food. Abbey immediately dived on the stuffed grape leaves. 

"How can you eat those things?" Ray asked. "They look like fried beetles." 

"Ray, they're delicious." 

He shivered with disgust. He felt like he did when he watched Benny taste mud. He knew, on a purely objective level that this was just a bit of seasoned rice wrapped in a leaf. It was no different than eating any other vegetable matter. But he just couldn't get past the mental picture of consuming a bug. 

Trying to distract him from his thoughts, Abbey slipped her shoes off under the table and began to run one stocking covered foot up and down his leg. Judging by the color his face flushed, she was doing a good job of distracting him. His jaw went slack and fell open when he felt her foot rise past his knee and begin to rub his inner thigh. 

"What are you doing?" he asked in amazement. 

"Has it really been that long since a woman came on to you, Ray?" Abbey felt truly stunned. She thought perhaps she'd let her own desire over ride her remarkable abilities. "Or have I mis-read the situation?" 

"Yes. I mean no, you haven't. It's just that well..." 

She surreptitiously drew her foot back under the table. "It's just that what?" she said and smiled at him, now knowing what he was likely to say. 

He stammered and blushed trying to explain his reactions. She reached across the table and covered one of his hands with one of hers. 

"I see. You've spent the last seventeen years playing the game by the rules. And I've spent the last seventeen years learning to break them. Ray, I didn't get where I am today by playing games. When I see something I want, I go after it." 

"Yeah, I can see that," he said taking a hasty sip of his wine. 

"However, I'm not insensitive. If you say 'no go' then I'll politely withdrawal and we'll go back to simply being colleagues working on a murder case." 

Ray felt a great inner turmoil. On the one hand, she had him so hot and bothered, he was ready to take her right there on the restaurant table. On the other hand, he'd never been in the presence of a woman so sexually assertive as she was. And he found it difficult to reconcile this new Abbey with the pal he'd know so many years ago. Now here she was, her head cocked to one side in an unspoken question, an expectant look on her face and he wasn't sure quite how to answer. 

"Abbey, I don't know what to say." Well, at least it was an honest response. "But you're right about one thing. I am used to being the pursuror and not the pursued. Damn, how do women do this?" 

"You're asking me? The one who threw the rules out the window years ago?" 

He chuckled a low self deprecating laugh. "Yeah, good point. How about I start with this. I don't want to say 'no go'. I'm just not ready to say 'go' tonight." 

She gave his hand a squeeze. "Thanks for being honest with me, Ray." 

They continued eating, greatly enjoying the food that had been prepared for them. When she finished the last crumb of her baaklava, she sighed happily. 

"Good, wasn't it?" he asked. 

"Excellent. Thank you for bringing me here. The food was wonderful and the company even better." 

She raised her arms above her head and stretched out her back while yawning broadly. 

"Tired, already?" he chided her. 

"Yeah, I didn't sleep very well last night and I'm still on Atlanta time." 

"Poor thing. See what working for the Feds has done to you?" 

"No, I don't." 

"How can you call yourself a police officer if you can't stay up all night on a stake out?" 

"Well, that's the whole point of doing what I do. I don't generally consider myself a police officer. I consider myself a psychologist. And when I do occasionally have to stay up on a stake out, I just make sure I have plenty of caffeine before hand." 

"But now, I probably need to get you back to your hotel so you can get some rest. We'll have a busy day tomorrow." 

"From your mouth to God's ear." 

He looked at her in amazement. 

"I like to keep busy," she explained. "Besides, I feel like I've been working on this case forever. I'd like to get it into the 'solved' column." 

"You got something against unsolved cases?" 

"I haven't had one yet. I'd like to keep my perfect record intact." 

The drive back to the hotel was uneventful. They listened to an oldies station on the radio and sang along with their favorites, recalling the memories the tunes evoked. Ray insisted on walking Abbey to her suite even though she protested. Perhaps chivalry wasn't really dead. Or perhaps, she hoped, he'd decided he was ready to say 'go'. 

Unfortunately, he wasn't. But once they were inside, he kissed her with great affection and enough passion to know that he could be ready soon. 

"Would you like me to pick you up tomorrow morning?" he asked. 

"That's so sweet but I wouldn't want to inconvenience you." 

"It's no inconvenience. And I'd really like to." 

"Ray?" she asked while he held her in a comfortable embrace. 

"Yeah?" 

"About your fellow detectives. What are you going to tell them? About us, I mean. I saw them staring at us as we left the squad room earlier." 

"The truth. We were friends in high school and haven't seen each other in years. That's really the only thing that's relevant." 

Abbey had to agree with the logic of his statement. "Yeah, you're right." 

He hugged her again and then released her walking semi-reluctantly towards the door. 

"Eight o'clock?" he asked. 

"I'll be waiting out front for you." 

He exited and left her standing there staring at the door that closed behind him. She sighed heavily. It had been such a long time since she'd had a lover. David, the man she'd become involved with shortly after moving to Atlanta, had moved to New Orleans nearly a year ago. Though she wasn't prudish about sex, in this day and age of rampant sexually transmitted diseases, one had to be cautious about casual encounters. 

After her divorce, she'd been stationed in Germany for a year. It was there that she was introduced to the concept of Fuck Buddies; a good friend with whom you could have a physical relationship but not have all the emotional baggage that went with it. At Ramstein she had cultivated two FB's. And at every base she'd been stationed to after that, she'd had at least one. Once she joined the bureau, she found it easier to develop these special friendships. She would have been more than happy to keep David in that category. But he'd been born and raised in the south so that just didn't sit well with him and eventually he wanted an exclusive relationship. She acquiesed until he began talking of marriage. Then she knew she had to break it off. Claiming that the requirements of her job wouldn't allow her to be the kind of wife he was looking for, she ended the relationship with a heavy heart. She was truly fond of him and knew she would miss their romps. But he still carried an image of a 1950's television family and that wasn't what she wanted. 

Just before coming to Illinois, the bureau had sent the entire team to a series of workshops at Quantico. During one of the exercises, she had been partnered with George, their systems expert. While they were working together, she felt an almost electric connection with him. At one point he'd given her a look that indicated he'd felt it too. 

"Well, standing here mooning over what might have been certainly isn't productive," she said to herself and shortly thereafter she crawled into bed. 

Abigail's eyes popped open suddenly. Images flashed through her brain. The flash of light on a metal blade. A man's face, wide eyed in fear. Blood splattering on a white t-shirt. And a large person carrying a large bundle wrapped in plastic over his shoulder. She tried desperately to see the face of that person but could only tell that he was bald. 

She sat up and looked at the alarm clock next to her bed. It was 1:15 AM. She was drenched in sweat, her breathing rapid and irregular. She thought of calling the police but didn't know what she was going to tell them. They'd pass her off as a kook that had just had a nightmare. She shook her head ruefully, knowing the true nightmare had been the victim's. She then thought of calling Ray but again, didn't know how to tell him what she'd seen. No, at this point, there was nothing that could be done anyway. She had no idea if she was having a vision of a crime in progress or of one already committed. And even if it was a crime in progress, she just didn't have enough details to act on it. 

She laid down again, trying to compose herself enough to get back to sleep. She forced herself to breathe slowly and deeply and think of positive things. Her brain latched onto one thought. The visions had started. It wouldn't be long now. 

Abigail had just walked out the door of the hotel when Ray appeared in his Buick. The car had barely stopped when she jumped in. He surveyed the cotton twill trousers she wore and the short sleeved sweater that was layered under light weight blazer. 

"Well, I see you're dressed for action today." 

"Oh?" she replied. 

"Yeah, you hoped for a busy day. And you're gonna get it." 

"They found another body." It was a statement not a question. And Ray recognized it immediately. 

"I see you've already been on the phone this morning." 

Not wanting to lie but not prepared to tell him the truth yet either, she let the comment go by unremarked. She remained silent as they drove to the alley where the body had been found. Ducking under the police tape that restricted access to the area, they approached a small knot of police personnel. Dr. Barnes was quickly introduced. She asked to see the victim. The coroner looked nervously at Ray for confirmation and the detective nodded his head. 

Abbey took a deep breath and steeled herself for the sight she was about to behold. She looked down and stared into the face of the man she had seen last night. Though his eyes were now closed, there was little difference between how he looked now and how he had appeared in her vision. She walked a few feet away, her back leaning against the brick wall of the building. Closing her eyes she willed herself to have the vision again so she could try to get more details but nothing came. She closed her eyes tighter and concentrated harder but still no results. She knew it was a useless exercise but that didn't stop her from trying it anyway. 

A light touch on her shoulder brought her back to the alley. Ray was standing in front of her. 

"You okay?" he asked. 

"Yeah, I'm just trying to put some pieces together in my mind." 

"Well, CSU says there's no evidence that he was killed here in the alley. Looks like the dumpsters are just a convenient drop off spot." 

Abbey looked around the alley. From what she could see, there was no light source in the alley. Yet last night she'd seen light reflect from the knife blade. Her eyes glazed over staring blindly at the scene before her. She saw the knife again, and this time she looked up. There was a large window with light streaming in from a street lamp. The murders had taken place indoors, just inches from the exterior wall of the building where the window was. The ceiling was high and there was an empty echoing sound. 

Abbey pulled herself back to the alley. She realized that Ray had been watching her and knew something was up. Unasked questions were written all over his face and she knew it was time to come clean. 

"We need to talk," she admitted. 

Ray followed her to his car wondering what kind of bombshell she was about to drop at his feet. She suggested they go to the FBI field office. He saw detective Hughes walking just a few feet away and honked the horn. The dective walked over to the driver's side of the car as Ray rolled down the window. 

"I'm taking Dr. Barnes to the Federal building. Tell Welch I'll be back at the precinct when we're done there." 

"Yeah, sure," he acknowledged. 

Abbey was silent during the drive to the FBI's offices. She wasn't sure how she was going to tell Ray or what his reaction would be. There were very few people in the bureau that knew and most of them had freaked out initially. Once they walked in, Abbey secured a visitors badge for Ray and took him back to a small conference room. She left him there and spent several moments securing documents to take back with her. Agent Maddox was not happy about letting a Chicago detective see some of the things she was gathering but wasn't about to cross her when she had 'that look' on her face. 

Ray was fidgeting when she finally returned. Her demeanor did nothing for his nerves. 

"What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room...ever. If you tell anyone, and that includes Chicago P.D., FBI personnel, God or your mother, it would have serious repercussions for me personally and professionally. Understand?" 

"Sure," he said casually. 

"I mean it Ray. If this gets out and I find that you're responsible, I'll hunt you down and kill you. No questions asked." 

She'd threatened him before but always more flamboyantly. He knew she was serious this time. 

"It won't leave the room," he promised quietly. 

"Good." She tossed a handfull of files onto the table before him. Included were phone logs from the morning and excerpts from her own personnel file. "I didn't talk to anyone this morning before you picked me up. As you can see here, no call was made to or from my hotel room." She pointed out the appropriate lines on the green bar computer paper. 

"Every FBI applicant undergoes a battery of fitness exams, including a psychological profile. This is mine." She handed him a page from her personnel file. 

When he looked down he saw a blank page. He looked back up at her with a puzzled expression on his face. 

"My results in many areas were so far off the scale as to be unbelievable. The bureau brought in a team from the Office of Scientific Investigation and Research. OSIR is used to to dealing with the paranormal. They subjected me to another battery of exams and this is what they came up with." 

Ray looked at the document she placed before him. Though the words were in English, he felt as though he were reading a foreign language. Phrases like 'empathy rating of +5 sending & +9 receiving' had no meaning for him. It wasn't until he saw the words 'clairvoyance' and 'clairaudience' that he began to have an inkling of what was going on. 

"Are you saying that you're psychic? Like call the toll free number and find out my future?" 

She rolled her eyes in disgust. "Those charlatains? Please. Ray, I'm for real. I woke up early this morning and had a vision of the murder." 

"You mean you dreamed it?" 

"No, I was wide awake." 

"So you saw who did it. We can set you down with an Identakit and create a composite sketch." His voice was eager and excited. 

"No Ray. It's not that easy. I rarely see things in complete details. Just flashes of images. Kinda like a slide show on fast forward or looking into a room from a doorway and then having the door slammed shut in your face. The only thing I can say is that the man who carried the victim is bald. I don't even know for sure from the vision that he's the murderer. Based on other feelings, I believe he is, but I can't say for sure." 

"So, back there in the alley?" 

"I was trying to recall all the details of the vision. Like I said, sometimes they go so fast that I don't actually 'see' everything that's there. 

"Your CSU people are right. The murders are not taking place at the dumpsters. He murders them indoors. The area is large and open like a warehouse or abandoned building. It's got windows high up with a street lamp right outside." 

"Oh great, like we don't have any of those in Chicago." 

"Look Ray, I'm doing the best I can here. Granted, it's not a big lead. But it does at least give you a place to start." 

"Me?" 

"Well, it's either that or you convince the duck boys to listen to a psychic; without telling them you're consulting with a psychic, of course." 

"I see your point. Just one thing, though." 

"What?" 

"I can't believe you were totally oblivious about this ability before the FBI came along." 

"Meaning?" 

"Meaning, how long have you known about this?" He wondered about some things that had happened nearly twenty years ago. 

"I honestly didn't know until the OSIR got through with me. I mean, I've always had what mom called a strong sense of intuition and what I called an unfailing bullshit detector. Remember when we were juniors and I broke up with Danny Markham because he was two-timing me with that cheerleader from St. Agnes'?" 

"Yeah." 

"The truth is that I only saw them together once and that was after a football game. They were talking to Danny's cousin. I really didn't suspect anything but when I casually mentioned that I had seen the three of them, he claimed that the girls were friends and that was all there was to it. But I knew differently. I don't know how I knew, but I could just tell he was lying." 

"So, can you like read minds?" 

She laughed. "No, not really. I read emotions more than actual thoughts. I think that's where the internal lie detector comes from. And before you ask just how unfailing I am, I've been checked against the most sensitive polygraphs the bureau has been able to find and I've beaten every one. 

"I guess if you had to classify what I do, it would be like reading tea leaves. I look at things and I get these images. Sadly, I haven't yet learned to be able to use it at will. But I know that when the visions start, I'm really close." 

"So, where do we go from here?" 

"Can I ask you a favor?" 

"Anything." 

"I don't usually involve myself directly in the police work. Like I said yesterday, I'm the one who takes the small pieces and makes a picture out of them, kinda like pixels on a television screen or tiles in a mosaic. But on this case, would you mind if I partnered with you? Since you know about me now, I think it would be better. And if I tell you I've got a hunch about something, you'll know what I'm talking about." 

"Sure." 

"Thanks, Ray." 

She felt another presence and raise her eyes slightly to look over the detective's shoulder. She saw Agent Phil Maddox walking by the window and stop to look at her so she squelched her desire to show Ray just how much she appreciated his understanding. As far as Maddox knew, she had just met the detective yesterday and they had no history. She knew he was curious about why she'd brought Ray here and what they were talking about, but her position with the bureau made sure that she didn't have to answer to him and for that she was thankful. 

She caught Ray's eye and winked at him surreptitiously. "So, detective, have I made myself clear?" she asked, her voice suddenly hard as steel and a look in her eyes to match. 

"Absolutely." Ray's voice was firm but the unspoken question knitted his brows together. 

"Good, I think we're finished here then." 

She got out of her chair and opened the door acting as if she had just seen the FBI agent who stood there watching them. 

"Oh, Phil, is there something I can do for you?" Abbey asked, her voice full of innocence. 

"Actually, I was coming to see if you needed any help." 

"No, thank you. I believe Detective Vecchio and I have come to an understanding about each of our roles in this investigation." 

"Absolutely," Ray confirmed. 

She handed some of the documents she carried to the agent as they walked past him. "I'm finished with these now." 

Neither Ray nor Abbey said a word until they were safely along inside the elevator. 

"Did you see the look on his face when you slapped those papers into his hand?" Ray asked laughing wildly. 

"God, he just irritates the shit out of me." 

"You too?" 

"You know, it's guys like him that give the bureau a bad rep." 

Ray's cell phone rang. He flipped it open and answered. "Vecchio. 

"Yeah?" he asked caller. "We're on our way in. And Louie, nobody says a word to him until I get Dr. Barnes there. You got that?" 

He closed the phone and looked at Abbey. "Huey and Louie are bringing someone in to the station for questioning. Let's hope that unfailing bullshit detector of yours really works." 

"Let's go." 

The drive from the Federal Building to the 27th Precinct was a short one, especially the way Ray drove. It wasn't long before they were walking down the corridor to the interrogation rooms, meeting Detective Hughes along the way. 

"He's in number two Ray." 

"Has anybody tried to question him?" 

"No, we just got him here a few minutes ago." 

"Great. Thanks Jack." 

They stopped outside the interrogation room and looked at each other for a moment. 

"So, how do you want to play this?" he asked. "Bad cop, good cop?" 

"Only if you let me be the bad cop." 

He looked stunned. 

"I never get to be the bad cop," she whined. Then laughing she added, "Let me have a go at him first and sort of take his emotional temperature. I think you're experienced enough to play along." 

They opened the door and were both shocked by what they saw. The man sitting at the table didn't come close to resembling the man in Abbey's vision. This man looked very old and had hair that threatened to overtake his head. Abbey managed to control her reaction but Ray couldn't. 

"Good afternoon," she said pleasantly taking the seat across the table from the man. "I'm Abbey Barnes. This is Detective Vecchio." She extended her right hand in greeting. 

"Mark Willis," he replied shaking the hand she extended to him. 

She noted that he had a firm handshake that belied his soft voice. 

"Mr. Willis, I understand you have some information about the murders. Is that true?" 

The man began to tremble. "Yes, but you gotta promise me I won't get into any trouble." 

"Mr. Willis, you're not under arrest. If you're afraid you're about to incriminate yourself in the murders, then feel free to walk out the door." 

"Oh no, it's not the murders. It's just that, well, he's a cop isn't he?" 

"Yes sir, he is." 

"Well, could I talk to you in private?" 

"Certainly. Detective Vecchio, would you excuse us for a moment?" 

"I dunno, Abbey. You sure about this?" 

She smiled confidently at him. "Yes, I am." 

Ray left the room but watched them closely from the other side of the two way mirror. 

"Okay, Mr. Willis. What do you have to tell me?" 

"I didn't have nothin' to do with the murders. I swear to God." 

"Then why are you here?" 

"Well, last night, I saw somethin'. See, I was lookin' for a place to spend the night. I don't like to stay in shelters unless the weather's real bad. I figure there's people that need 'em more than me. You know, like women with kids, and old or sick folk." 

"That's very kind of you. Go on." 

"Well, I found this vacant factory off Roosevelt. Now, I know I was trespassin' but it didn't seem like I'd really be hurtin' anybody. After all, it was warm enough that I wasn't gonna start a fire or nothin'. And since the door wasn't closed, I thought it'd be okay." 

"Yes, I see your point. Continue." 

"Well, I found me a nice dark corner under a stair case to go curl up in and go to sleep. Now I don't think I'd been out long but I heard this blood curlin' scream. I looked up and I saw this big bald guy with a knife in one hand and his... well... his... you know..." 

Abbey quickly picked up on his embarassment. It was difficult not to react in sympathy but she controlled her reaction. 

"It's okay, Mr. Willis. I'm a doctor. You can say those kinds of words to me." 

"Well, it was a tallywhacker. Only it wasn't his cuz he was laughin' like a loon. And I don't suppose anybody who'd just castrated himself would be laughin'." 

"No, I suppose not. What else did you see?" 

"That's when I saw this other guy laying on the floor. The bald guy kicks him and rolls him over and then stabs the guy. It was awful. The poor cuss screamed again and then started cryin'." 

Abbey watched as the man pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the tears that had begun to slip down his weatherbeaten cheeks. 

"I wanted to help. You gotta believe that I wanted to but I was scared. I was afraid he'd do the same thing to me." 

"Mr. Willis, I do believe you. I really do. And you were smart to keep yourself safe." She held his hands and tried to radiate calm and self assurance. "Now, tell me more about the bald man. How tall was he? How much did he weigh? Can you describe his face?" 

The man took a deep breath. He looked at Abbey with wide open eyes. "You've got a good heart. You know that?" 

"Thank you Mr. Willis. But really, any information you can give us would be really helpful." 

"Well, it was kinda dark and I was a ways off." 

She gently squeezed his hands and looked directly into his eyes. "Anything you can remember," she prodded. 

"Well, he looked a little like that wrestler fella. The one that struts around with the pink feathery thing. About the same height and build." 

"Okay, anything else?" 

"His laugh. I can't really describe it but I'd know it again if I heard it. Chilled me to the bone, it did." 

"Was it a high pitched laugh?" 

"No, it was a deep voice but evil. Worse than any bad guy on any monster movie I ever saw." 

"Did you hear him say anything? Any words?" 

"No, he just laughed." The man sat and thought for a moment. 

"What else?" 

"He sang," the man said as if startled at the memory. 

"He sang?" 

"Yeah, after he stabbed the guy, I remember closin' my eyes cuz I didn't want to see no more. But I looked up again when I heard him singin'. He picked up this big bundle. I think it was the guy he stabbed. And then he carried it out of the building. And he was still singin'." 

"What song was he singing?" 

The old man looked up at her and seemed puzzled as he answered her. "I've Been Workin' on the Railroad." 

Abbey squeezed his hands again. "Okay, Mr. Willis. One more question. "Where is this factory?" 

"Oh, you don't want to go there. He could hurt you too." 

"I know that. I want to send the police there to look for evidence. They'll be very careful and they're trained to take care of themselves." 

He looked at her with wary eyes. 

"Please, Mr. Willis, help up stop this man before he hurts anyone else." 

"Okay," he acquiesced. He gave her detailed directions on how to get there. When she finished writing them down, she flipped to another page in her notebook and jotted down an address. She tore out the page and handed it to him. 

"Mr. Willis, this is the address of a place I'd like you to stay. I know you don't like to stay in shelters but this is a very special place. Father O'Reilly is an old friend of mine. Tell him Abbey Barnes sent you there. He'll keep you safe until we get this guy off the streets." 

"I don't know, miss..." he began. 

"But I do. Please, Mr. Willis. It won't be for very long. And I assure you that you won't be depriving anyone of a bed. This is not a real shelter like you're used to. Hardly anyone knows about it so there's always room. And I'll bet Father O'Reilly would be happy for the company. Please." 

Her dark brown eyes stared straight into his and pleaded with him to go to the priest. 

"Okay, I'll go," he said reluctantly. 

"Thank you, Mr. Willis." 

She stood up and walked with him out of the interrogation room. Ray smiled at her having witnessed the entire conversation. She escorted him out of the building and hailed a cab. As one pulled over to them he looked at her one last time. 

"About that little trespassin' incident?" he inquired. 

"Don't worry about it." 

She gave the cab driver directions to Father O'Reilly's and handed him a twenty dollar bill to cover the fare. She knew it would be more than enough but didn't worry about it. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and punched two digits into the number pad. 

"Father O'Reilly's," the voice answered. 

"Padre, this is Abbey. I'm sending a Mark Willis to you. Keep him safe for me until I come get him." 

"We'll take care of him." 

She smiled to herself as she turned around she made her way back to the squad room and found Detective Vecchio sitting at his desk. She marvelled at the way her body reacted to just the sight of him. Though she had long since grown accustomed to looking at men and instantly rating them on how good she thought they'd be in bed, she hadn't felt so charged just by the sight of a man since she'd first met her ex-husband, Alan. 

"So?" he asked as she sat down next to the desk. 

"So, what?" 

He looked totally exasperated. "Was he lying? And if he wasn't, where is this factory?" 

"Ray, I don't think that man is capable of telling a lie." She tore a page from her notebook. "And here's the location of the factory." 

He looked at the paper and thought for a moment. "Excuse me. I have to take this to the lieutenant." 

"Sure," she replied watching him as he walked away. 

"We got a problem," he announced when he returned. 

"What's that?" 

"The factory's located in a different precinct." 

"So?" 

"So you know how we all get our backs up when the FBI comes in here telling us how to do our jobs?" 

"Yeah." 

"Well, it ain't much different when we cross precincts." 

"So, you take me with you and let me take the heat." 

"Nah, I couldn't do that." 

"Yes, you can. And you will. And if you don't like it, I'll just speak to Lieutenant Welsh about it." 

"You wouldn't." 

"In a heartbeat." Her normally liquid brown eyes had turned opaque and her voice had dropped with intensity. "Ray, I want this case solved. And if I have to go to another precinct, that's fine by me. Now you can either take me over there and we'll ask for their cooperation together. Or I'll go by myself and call in Agents Maddox and Ford to help me. What's your preference?" 

"Did the FBI make you this bitchy or was it the Air Force?" 

"No, I was born this way. What's your excuse?" 

The old friends stared at each other for several tense moments and then both of them burst out laughing at the same time. 

"Okay, Welsh is putting in a call over to the 23rd so they'll be expecting me. But I don't think he's mentioned that I'm bringing a Fed with me." 

"Ray, I can take care of myself." 

It didn't take long to get to the neighboring precinct. They stopped at the desk just inside the building and were given directions to the squad room upstairs. Ray took the steps two at a time and had to wait for Abbey to follow. 

"Can't keep up?" he taunted. 

"With your long legs? Ray, you're nearly a foot taller than I am." 

"You've got a point. Sorry." 

They entered the squadroom together and glanced at the layout. It was similar to the 27th but not identical. The location of the lieutenant's office was not in plain sight. A man dressed in an ill fitting suit with windblown brown hair looked up at them. 

"Can I help you?" 

"Ray Vecchio, 27th precinct, here to see Lieutenant Starr." 

The man pointed a finger back towards a corner of the room and watched as Ray and Abbey walked away from him. His attention was diverted by the arrival at his desk of another man with spiked blond hair that stuck out in all directions and wore very faded jeans and a white grungy t-shirt. Abbey gave them both a second look before she stepped up to the lieutenant's open door. 

Ray knocked politely on the door frame. 

"Come in," invited the man behind the desk. "You must be the detective that Harding said he was sending over." 

"Yes sir, Ray Vecchio. This is Dr. Barnes of the FBI." 

"Dr. Barnes," he acknowledged. 

"Lieutenant," she responded. 

"So what can I do for you folks? I don't believe Harding mentioned that he was sending a federal agent with you." 

"No sir," Abbey responded. "I don't believe he knew that I planned on coming with the detective. I'm sure you've heard about the serial murders that have been taking place in the 27th sir." 

"Yes, I have. All the precincts have been alerted." 

"Well, we have reason to believe that the murders aren't really taking place there, that it's just a dumping ground for the bodies. We also have reason to believe that at least one of the murders took place in a vacant factory building here in your precinct." 

"Is that so?" 

"Yes sir," Ray interjected. "We have an eyewitness who saw the most recent murder take place." 

"So, I suppose you'd like to take a couple of my detectives and a Crime Scene Unit to this factory and check it out." 

Abbey could feel Ray's hackles go up at the assumption that they needed or even wanted help. "Thank you, sir. Though it's not necessary, we do appreciate any assistance you wish to offer." 

"Dewey! Kowalski!" the commanding officer yelled. "In my office." 

Abbey turned to see the two men she had noticed when they first came in. Lt. Starr made the introductions. Abbey took particular interest in Detective Stanley Kowalski. She prayed that someone would tell her that he'd just come in from an undercover assignment as a junkie and that he didn't normally look like this. Detective Tom Dewey looked a little wind blown but she could accept that. Kowalski, however, was another case entirely. She shook her head and hoped that they wouldn't have to work with these two for very long. 

Abbey shared the information she felt was relevant to the two detectives. Dewey surprised her by coming up with the name of the professional wrestler that Mr. Willis had spoken of. 

"Jesse, the body, Ventura. Yeah, he has this pink feather boa that's kinda like his trademark." 

"Oh great, so we're trackin' a nutcase that looks like another nutcase," was Kowalski's summary. 

As much as she wanted to, Abbey could not disagree with him. Soon they were pulling up at the vacant building. 'For Sale' signs were posted all over the building. Ray unholstered his gun and approached the door on the right side. Abbey stood to the left, gun in hand as well. The other detectives were behind them. Ray unlatched the door and pushed it inward with a shove. None of them heard any signs of a live human on the premesis. Ray entered first and motioned to the other detectives to follow him. Abbey shot him a look that showed her displeasure at bringing up the rear but he ignored it. Once they were inside, Kowalski found a circuit box and flipped some switches trying to get some more light in the place. 

Satisfied that the building was empty, guns were lowered and everyone began to look around. The men were all looking at the floor but Abbey kept looking upwards. She found a window that matched the one she'd seen in her vision and immediately looked at the concrete beneath her feet. There were plenty of blood stains on the floor. 

"Ray," she called. "Over here." 

The detective walked to her side and looked at the evidence before him. He shook his head and then looked at her. 

"Too much blood for just one victim." 

"Yeah," she agreed. 

The crime scene unit was called in and began the process of gathering the physical evidence. Abbey continued to look around while the local police went about their usual business. She found the spot where the witness said he had hidden and watched the murder. She crouched down beneath the stair case and tried to see as he had. Looking where the Chicago police department personnel now stood, she could tell that Mr. Willis had had a perfect vantage point to view the murder. The light from the streetlamp would have shined down directly onto the spot where she'd found the blood. Yes, his information would be considered credible. Now all she had to do was make sure the FBI managed to get the evidence that was being collected. That was going to require more cooperation than just Ray could give her. She looked at her watch and began to formulate a plan. 

It was nearly two hours later when everyone was ready to pack up and leave the building. Dewey and Kowalski were arranging to have the building watched over night. Abbey hoped it would be a successful stake out but knew the probabilities against that. 

"Guys," she said as they were ready to leave. "I've got a terrible confession to make. All this murder and mayhem has given me an appetite. Anybody want to join me at Ed Debevic's for dinner? My treat." 

Tom stopped punching numbers into the cell phone he was holding. "I was just getting ready to call Lt. Starr and report our progress." 

"Well, invite him along and we can make our report in person. The more the merrier is what I always say," she encouraged. 

Ray looked at her suspiciously. He knew she had to be up to something but didn't know what. He'd seen her bristle everytime she got near Kowalski and couldn't fathom that she'd want to spend any more time in his company. He observed that she didn't even look at him when she spoke. He guessed that she'd just assumed he would join her. 

The two other detectives looked at each other. 

"Couldn't hurt to ask him," Dewey observed as he dialed his commanding officer's phone number. 

Within an hour all five were seated at a table at the restaurant. 

"God, I haven't been here in years," Abbey exclaimed enthusiastically. "I wonder if they still have that great peach cobbler." 

"Look, Abbey, order anything you want; just no fried bugs tonight, okay?" 

"Ray, I'm surprised at you. I don't think they offer fried bugs on the menu here." 

She laughed at her friend and engaged the officers in a spirited discussion of law enforcement in the Windy City. She used all the charm she could muster to win over the gentlemen she had just met that day. Once she had determined how they communicated with each other, she fell into the same pattern. They ate and drank long into the night telling all kinds of stories from their earlier years. And when they realized that Abbey was not one to blush easily, the stories got bawdier as the night progressed. Long before the night was over, she had convinced them that she was just one of the guys, nothing special or different about her just because her badge said FBI. Ray helped to confirm that illusion by sharing the story of how she'd treated Agent Maddox earlier in the day. 

By evening's end, Ray was amazed at the amount of alcohol Abbey had consumed. Using the pretext of being the self-appointed designated driver, he had abstained from the drinking and it had given him a chance to observe everyone at the table a little close. He watched as Abbey had matched the officers from the 23rd Precinct, drink for drink and showed no signs of being intoxicated despite the fact that they all had far more body mass than that which graced her petite frame. 

Just before they walked out of the restaurant, Ray watched as his friend drew the lieutenant apart from the others and spoke to him softly. He had no idea what she was saying but whatever it was, did not displease the commanding officer. He looked as jovial as he'd been for the past hour. And Abbey had a look of satisfaction on her face when she joined Ray outside the building. 

"What was that all about?" he asked as they drove back to her hotel. 

"What?" 

"Your cozy little conversation with Starr." 

"Oh, I was just making sure the evidence we picked up today gets sent to the FBI's forensics division." 

"What?" 

"Oh, that's right. This is the first time you've actually cooperated in an FBI investigation. I forget that you don't know what it's like. See, usually we'd have an entire team of people in here. Due to some really weird shit happening in Atlanta now, I got sent up here by myself. There may be more people joining me later. But for now I have to make sure that the physical evidence gets to the right people. I've just spent the evening convincing the other three officers that I'm just one of them and that they should pretty much give me whatever I want, including getting things sent down to Gracie." 

"You did what?" Ray clearly didn't understand. 

"I schmoozed them, Ray. You read my file. You know what I can do. I just used that little talent to my advantage." 

"Oh Abbey, that's not nice. Don't you have some kind of ethical code that covers this 'talent' of yours?" 

"Sure I do. And there's nothing that prevents me from using it to get the case solved. I know that no matter how good the Chicago P.D.'s forensics people are, they still won't measure up to what the Bureau can do. They don't have the training or the equipment." 

"Okay, so tell me how this talent keeps you from getting drunk." 

"God, that's a different talent, altogether. I learned to drink in the Air Force. And more importantly, I learned how not to get drunk. Granted, I doubt I'd pass a blood alcohol screen right now but I'll be none the worse for my excess in the morning." 

They drove in silence the rest of the way to her hotel. As before, Ray insisted on walking her to her suite. Once again, Abbey fumbled with the card key lock on her door, messing it up so many times that Ray finally took the card away from her and opened the door. 

"You know, if they'd just give you a regular key lock, I could just pick the damn thing," she complained. 

"And that's exactly why they don't use them anymore." 

Abbey stumbled as she walked in the room. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ray asked. 

"Yes, I'm fine. Why?" 

"Because you're starting to act a little drunk." 

"No, I'm starting to act a lot drunk. Now kindly take your chivalrous little ass out the door. I've got some major damage control to do if I don't want to be one big walking hangover tomorrow." 

"Want me to pick you up again in the morning?" 

"No thanks. I need to put in some major work at the Bureau's field office tomorrow. I'll give you a call later and let you know what I come up with." 

"I look forward to it." 

Ray looked at her carefully for a moment and then leaned down for a quick kiss. He was surprised that she turned at the last second and he caught her cheek instead of her lips. He wondered what had happened to change last night's intensive flirtation into tonight's cold shoulder. But when he looked into her eyes, he saw a warmth that let him know that their prior relationship was still intact. 

"Thanks for seeing me safely in, Ray." 

"Good-night, Abbey." 

As soon as Ray had shut the door behind him, Abbey went directly to her bathroom. The first thing she did was to draw a warm bath and drop in a mix of volatile oils recommended to her by an herbal healer while she was stationed in Germany. Normally, she wouldn't go for that kind of stuff but she had tried it once and found it to be effective. Next she drank a half pint of bottled water and used it to wash down 2000 milligrams of Vitamin C. While soaking in the tub, she thought about Ray and precisely what it would take to turn him from friend to lover. Difficult though it was, she acknowledged the fact that it may mean waiting until they solved the case. Some guys didn't like to mix work and pleasure. Though he had certainly responded when she had kissed him before going out to dinner the night before. So maybe there was something else going on. 

He'd been somewhat subdued at dinner with the other detectives. Of course, he'd probably been a little overwhelmed. It had been less than twelve hours between the time he had learned of her Talent and then seen her use it in some of its various facets. Despite what she'd told Ray, she really didn't like to use it just to get people to cooperate with her, but she'd learned through experience that sometimes she just had to. She was fairly certain that she could use it to influence him into her bed but she respected Ray more than that. She didn't wan't to coerce him, however subtly. She wanted him to come to her willing. 

She finished her bath and patted her body dry. She grabbed her pajamas, an FBI t-shirt and an old pair of exercise shorts, off the back of the bathroom door. As soon as she was dressed, she drank the other half pint of her bottle of water and slipped into bed. 

Fortunately, her sleep was undisturbed by either dreams or visions that night. When her alarm clock buzzed at her in the morning, she felt only minor effects from her night out with the boys, a general sense of malaise and unsoundness that she knew could be banished with a proper breakfast and some exercise. Dressing quickly, she ran down the stairs, and soon was faced with Roosevelt Ave. She knew she wasn't far from the University of Illinois at Chicago so she headed in that direction, figuring the campus would be a good place to walk off the last of the alcohol that was still affecting her. She'd never been a big fitness devote' but since joining the Air Force had learned the advantages of keeping in shape. For one thing, it had given her the stamina she sometimes needed for her job. Long hours of guard duty at the front gate to a military installation could be mind numblingly tedious, so it helped if the body was ready was ready to go to action even when the brain wasn't. Her sex life with her husband had also taught her the benefits of being physically fit. She had been able to contort into positions the Kama Sutra had never heard of and had been able to match his incredible stamina. 

She wondered if Ray had that kind of stamina. Would he be able to sustain an entire afternoon of lovemaking? Would he be able to leave her breathless and yet still wanting more? 

"Abigail, you have got to stop thinking like this," she told herself sternly as she walked at a brisk pace. "Forty-eight hours ago, you didn't even realize he was still alive, let alone that you'd be working with him. Now you can't think about anything but getting him into bed." 

She thought back to their childhood together. They'd met in seventh grade. They were on the same schedule node and so they saw each other in practically every class. They'd been lab partners in science class and struggled together in math. She helped him pass cooking and he'd kept her from injuring herself in wood shop. They'd been buddies for so long that she was actually surprised when he asked her to go to the movies with him. 

She knew he had a big crush in Irene Zuko but also knew that the girl was forbidden fruit. Her dad ruled the neighborhood and a good chunk of the near west side. Once, in social studies class, they'd been discussing the custom of royalty arranging marriages to strengthen political ties. Somehow, she knew then that Irene would be subjected to the same treatment. It angered her that in this day and age, something like that could happen. But there was nothing she could do about it but watch Ray secretly pine for the mob princess and be his friend anyway. 

Ray had taken her to see Young Frankenstein. To this day it remained one of her all time favorite movies. And it had gotten her the nickname "Abbey Normal". She never minded when Ray called her that because she knew why he did. It was a reminder of that first date. As they walked home from the theater, Ray complained about the movie. 

"What a gyp!" he had claimed. 

"What? I thought it was hysterical." 

"Yeah, it was hysterical. But I thought it was gonna be scarey. You know a monster movie." 

Only later did she realize that he'd wanted her to be scared enough to hold his hand and maybe let him put his arm around her. Still, he walked her to her house and kissed her on her front porch. It was a slightly awkward kiss but even then she had recognized his potential. He hadn't tried to ram his tongue down her throat. When she squeezed his hands and thanked him for taking her, he just leaned in and kisssed her softly and gently. She remembered blushing and then saying a quick 'good-bye' before she ran into the house. 

Bringing her thoughts back to the here and now, she glanced at her watch to see how long she'd been walking. It was time to turn around and get back to the hotel so that she could dress and start the day. Memories of old times were fun but today, she had a serial killer to catch. 

Abbey sat at the desk the Chicago field office of the FBI had provided. Her laptop computer was open in front of her and George in Atlanta was on the phone line speaking to her. 

"Hey Abbey. How's life in the Windy City?" 

"It's been old home week, George. Come to find out one of the local cops on the case was a buddy of mine in high school." 

"Well, that's convenient." 

"Yeah, it has been so far, especially since I don't have you, John, or Bailey to play the bully role." 

"Abbey, are you telling me that with all your charm you don't have everyone there dropping everything to do your bidding?" 

She chuckled. "No, I had to pin back one detective's ears less than five minutes after I met him." 

"Ooh, that had to hurt." 

"Well, he hasn't given me any lip since. And, come to think of it, everyone else has been cooperative ever since too." 

"So what can I do for you today?" 

"I've got some forensic evidence that's being forwarded to Gracie. Would you please let her know it's on the way? And we've found a murder site and have a witness in protective custody." 

"You've got a witness?" 

"Sort of." 

She gave him all the information she had so that he could start searching his databases. She could hear, over the phone connection, the sound of his fingers dancing across the keyboard of his computer. 

"Okay, kiddo, the computer's chewing on it." 

"How long, George?" 

"Hard to say. You haven't given me a great deal of information here so there's a lot of variables to pull from. You gonna be at the office all day?" 

"Not if I don't have to be." 

"Abbey, I'm shocked. You'd rather spend a day with the local flat foots than your own kind?" 

"George, not everybody goes to work for the bureau straight out of college. Some of us actually started out in local law enforcement before joining the Feds. These guys are just as much 'my own kind' as you are. And more of my own kind than some of the yahoos in this field office," she rebuked him gently. 

"Point taken, Abbey." 

"Anyway, try me here first and then try the cell phone." 

"Will do. And Abbey?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Stay safe." 

"You know I will." 

"How sweet," she thought. "He's worried." 

She was only mildly surprised by his expression. Her petite size generally brought out those kinds of responses. However, she'd worked with the VCTF long enough that he should know she was capable of handling herself. Perhaps the connection she'd sensed in Virginia was real and he was speaking from true concern for her well being; not just out of some misguided notion that her size made her vulnerable. 

She spent two hours at her laptop inputting data, trying to determine where the murderer would strike next. She knew the factory was being watched but feared the killer was clever enough to make the stakeout and move his operations elsewhere. She also wasn't entirely sure that all three killings had taken place there. She knew that there was more blood on the floor than could be attributed to just one murder. But was there enough to account for all three? She wasn't sure and there was a niggling doubt in the back of her mind. 

Feeling like she had spent more than enough time at a desk, Abbey decided to take her search to the street. With only a description of a professional wrestler, she knew she didn't have a lot to go on but figured she try the local gay community first. She thought about asking Ray to join her but then decided to go it alone. He'd been subjected to enough already. She didn't want him freaking out if she needed to use her Talents and she suspected she might. She also wanted to shield herself from the effects his powerful personality had on her. Growing up in an Italian family, she had long since discounted the myth of the Italian Stallion. But now, being around Ray made her wonder if there was any truth to it. 

Ray looked at his watch. It was noon and he hadn't heard from Abbey. He wondered if she was okay. She had consumed quite a bit of alcohol the night before. She had promised to phone him and he wondered why she hadn't called. Picking up the telephone, he dialed her hotel and asked to be connected to her suite. When she didn't answer, he tried the FBI field office. A very polite woman told him that Dr. Barnes had left the office. Unfortunately, she didn't know exactly where Abbey had gone. He asked if there was any way to reach her, only to be told that her cellular number was for official use only. 

"Look damnit, in case you didn't hear me the first, this is Ray Vecchio, detective, Chicago Police Department, 27th precinct. I'm working with Dr. Barnes on a case involving a serial murderer and I need to talk to her right away. Now what the hell is her cell phone number?" 

During the conversation, Agent Maddox walked up and took the call from the agitated detective. "This is Phil Maddox." 

"Maddox, this is Vecchio at the 27th. I'm trying to reach Abbey." 

"I'm afraid Agent Barnes isn't in the office right now." 

"I know. I've been through that part already. But I need her cell phone number so I can get her in here quickly. I've got something I want her to check out." 

Ray was not above stretching the truth when it served his purposes. The truth was that there was no urgent need for Abbey at the moment. He just wanted to reassure himself that she was okay. Though he supposed she could take care of herself, he also knew that she was headstrong and impetuous; two potentially lethal attributes for a cop no matter what agency she worked for. 

"When she checks in I'll tell her you called," Maddox said as he hung up. 

Ray slammed the receiver back onto the cradle. His frustration level was mounting by the second. He tried to think where Abbey would have gone but didn't have a clue. He thought about where Fraser might go if he'd been working the case but knew that wouldn't work either. Abbey and Benny were two very different people. He knew Abbey had spent some time in the office so she was probably in possession of some information that he wanted; no, that he needed to be aware of. 

Abbey was not suffering from any frustration. She'd easily won over the director of the Chicago Gay Men's Health Network. Once he knew that she truly wanted to bring the killer to justice, or what passed for it in America, he offered her a wealth of information on well known gay bars and some not so well known hang outs where the murderer could be meeting his victims. Abbey recognized one of the bars as being the dumping site for the bodies. She acknowledged that another was a 'last seen' point for one of the victims. One of the maddening aspects of this case was the way the victims had led such invisible lives before becoming a headline in the Chicago Guardian. They'd all been fairly solitary. One man's family didn't even know he was gay. 

It caused her to think about her own life with no permanent ties. Granted, because of the nature of her work, someone usually knew where she was at any particular point in time. But since her parents' death and her divorce from Alan, there was no one to really care if she didn't come home one night. Shaking her head, she spoke sternly to herself. 

"Stop it, Abigail. You're letting your biological clock do the talking. You know what happened the last time you listened to your hormones instead of your head." 

The result had been a brief tempestuous marriage to Alan Barnes. It seemed that most of their time together had been either fighting or making up. The fights had often been white hot but the lovemaking afterwards had been equally passionate. One good thing she could say about her ex-husband was that he was a blazingly grand fuck. The kind that left you sore and happy; drained and energized at the same time. She looked at her watch; one o'clock. Not too late by for lunch by most people's standards. 

She dropped by a deli and picked up some food before heading over to the 27th. Entering the squad room, she walked directly to Ray's desk and dropped the brown paper bag on the one small empty spot she could find. 

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded. 

Her empathy immediately kicked in and she began to respond in kind. Then she cut herself off in the middle of a breath to form a different answer. 

"Good afternoon, Ray. How has your morning been?" she asked in her most sincerely pleasant tone. 

He wanted to refuse to be mollified but found it hard to resist the feeling of calm and warmth that emanated from her. 

"Have you eaten yet?" she asked. "I picked up a couple of sandwiches. Corned beef and swiss on rye or roast beef and cheddar on wheat." 

"Oh, corned beef, I suppose." 

"Cole slaw or potato salad?" 

"Slaw." 

"Pickle?" she asked holding up the foil wrapped cucumber. 

"Nah." 

"Ooh goody. Two for me." She replied with childlike glee. Lastly she pulled out two bottles of Evian water. Twisting off the cap, she handed one to Ray. 

"How do you do that?" 

"Do what, Ray?" 

"Turn me from mad-as-hell to happy-as-a-clam to be sharing lunch with you?" 

"It's just my natural charm. People respond to me." 

He eyed her speculatively. "They certainly do." 

"So," she asked companionably, "what's new with the case?" 

"You mean other than me sitting here worried half to death about you." 

She chose not to rise to his baiting. "Yes, other than that." 

"Well, we've got stake-outs assigned to dumpsters, the factory and a couple of popular gay bars with hopes of finding the guy. Other than that, we're sitting around twiddling our thumbs waiting for the FBI to do our jobs for us." His voice was full of rancor. 

"Ooh, I can see somebody's toes got stepped on. What's the problem?" 

"The problem is you didn't call me this morning. Then you left the office without telling anyone where you were going. And the goons there wouldn't give me your cell phone number." 

"Ray, I told you I'd be busy today." 

"Abbey, we're partners. Partners check in with each other." 

"Ray, do you worry this much about Fraser? Do you ask him to report to you on a schedule?" 

"No." 

"And isn't he your semi-official partner from a different law enforcement agency?" 

"Yes." 

"So what's the difference between him and me?" 

"Well, you're a... well, you know..." 

"Say it, Ray." 

"You're an old friend." 

"Good save, but the unfailing bullshit detector just went off the scale. The only difference between Fraser and me is that I have nearly seventeen years experience in law enforcement and I'm a woman. Now tell me. Which one of those causes you so much trouble?" 

Ray squirmed in his chair. "This isn't fair, Abbey. If I lie, you'll get mad because I fibbed. And if I tell the truth, you'll get mad cuz you won't like knowing how I feel about you." 

"You're right. It's not fair...to either of us. Ray, you've got to get over this mistaken notion that I need someone to take care of me. It could get us both in trouble." 

She placed on hand gently on his and radiated calm assurance until she saw Ray start to relax. "Think about it, Ray. Have you ever known me to need a keeper?" 

"I guess not." 

"Right. However, let me give you my cell phone number. You really should have it since you're my temporary partner. She reached into her bag and handed him a business card. "I keep it on virtually all the time and there's a voice mail box attached to the line if I don't answer for some reason." 

"Thanks Abbey. As long as I know how to reach you, I won't worry." 

She knew he was fooling himself about that but chose not to bring it up. 

"So, do you want to know what I've been working on?" she asked. 

She recapped her morning's events for the detective; including the call to George in Atlanta. "As soon as Gracie has anything for us, she'll let me know. George has the computers working on possible suspects so sadly we're in kind of a wait-and-see mode." 

"I hate when that happens." 

"Yeah, me too. So what do you want to do?" she asked with a hint of a leer. 

She was surprised to see her leer returned but was used to the game of chicken and was rarely the first one to flinch. "Oh really?" she asked. 

"What? You don't remember sitting in a booth at the Acropolis flirting shamelessly with me?" 

"Of course I do," she replied looking directly at him and leaning in closer so she could speak softly. "But I don't remember if I told you exactly how much I wanted you. How I wanted to kiss your soft lips, run my hands down the hard planes of your body and sink my fingers deeply into the curves of your ass. Wouldn't it have been great to feel me pull you up tightly against my body? To feel my breasts melt into your torso? 

"You know," she continued, "it's a shame we don't have time to go back to my suite. So I suppose we'll just have to content ourselves to sit here and think about what might have been." She sighed softly. 

Hazel eyes gleamed at her from across the desk. Ray hadn't blinked yet. An experienced poker player himself, he was ready to up the ante. 

"Or what might yet come. I mean, after all, we could get a call any minute that Dewey and Kowalski caught the perp and he spontaneously confessed. Then we'd be off the hook and could make that rendezvous back to your suite. And I could make slow, tender passionate love to you until the sun comes up tomorrow morning." 

Abbey felt herself react to his honey sweet voice. Parts of her body grew moist with anticipation and she had to concentrate on not squirming in her chair. 

"And what would you do after that?" she asked. 

"Take a short nap and then start all over again." 

It was all she could do to return his direct gaze. Fortunately the ringing of her cell phone distracted her. Never had the phrase 'saved by the bell' been so applicable, even if the bell was an electronic beeping. 

"Abbey Barnes," she answered. 

Ray listened to her end of the conversation. 

"Really? Okay, hang on George." She turned her attention to her old friend. "How fast can you get me back to the Federal Building?" 

"Fifteen minutes?" 

She spoke into the phone again. "George, give me twenty minutes to get back to the office. I'll call you from there and then you can down load the information to my computer." 

Abbey ended the call without even saying good-bye. She grabbed her stuff as she spoke to Ray. "Let's go. George has some possible hits for us." 

Ray was true to his word. In exactly fifteen minutes they were at her temporary desk waiting for the much-anticipated information to pop up on the screen. Soon pixels began to coalesce on the screen and form pictures of three likely suspects. All of them fit the criteria that Abbey had set forth. Two of the men were not bald but George assured her he had the computer putting together a picture of what they'd look like hairless and that it would be ready to download to her shortly. She printed off the information she had and called the 23rd precinct to inform Dewey and Kowalski of their progress. While looking at the reports, the altered photographs became available. Once they were printed, Abbey gathered all the documents into a file folder and looked at Ray. 

"Let's take a trip over to Father O'Reilly's and talk to Mr. Willis. With any luck, he can give us a positive, I.D. from one of these pictures." 

"Father O'Reilly's?" 

"That's where I stashed him. It's a federally sponsored safe house. Only most people think it's just a small homeless mission run by a kindly priest." 

"Oh, you're good." 

"Tell me that after we've spent a night together in sweaty passion." 

"Maybe I'll tell you tomorrow morning?" 

"Perhaps," was all she would say. 

The drive to Father O'Reilly's gave Ray some time to think. He'd been attracted to Abbey since they were lab partners in seventh grade science class. She could never be classified as a tomboy but she didn't act like most of the other girls either. While many of his female classmates were practically fainting at the idea of dissecting a frog, she had simply picked up the scalpel and made a perfect incision. Too petite to play basketball, she shunned the idea of becoming a cheerleader and excelled at swimming instead. 

He recalled taking her to see Young Frankenstein, hoping she'd be scared enough to hold his hand or even let him put his arm around her. But the movie had been a comedy and afforded him no such pleasures. He'd managed to get a kiss from her when he walked her home. He knew she was aware of his feelings for Irene Zuko and she'd remained his friend all during that tortured relationship, even to the point of being his alibi twice when he and Irene had slipped off together. 

He remembered the night of Lucy San Angelo's graduation party. The kiss they'd shared had been awkward. He'd told her that he'd kissed her only to avoid telling about what he'd done with Anne. That wasn't the whole truth. Yes, he'd been scared of old man Sullivan but in truth, Ray had wanted to kiss Abbey. He'd recently come to terms with the fact that as much as he wanted Irene, they could never be together. He had wanted to advance the relationship he had with Abbey but was afraid she'd rebuke him and he didn't want to ruin their friendship. 

He stole a long sideways glance at her now that she sat next to him in the Riviera. In the intervening years, he thought she'd actually gotten a little taller. She still carried the soft curves of a swimmer's body which were magnificently accentuated by the short sleeved sweater she wore. Her dark tresses were much shorter now but the curls remained. The most noticeable change, however, was not physical. It was the intensity and vibrancy that palpably radiated from her. She'd never been particularly shy but she'd always had the ability to blend into the background. Now, he thought, it would be difficult for her to do so. 

"Pull over here, Ray." 

Her voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked at the corner she pointed to. A small church was the first thing he saw. Behind it was a building that had been a school at one time. And the rectory was next to the church. Abbey led the way into the old school building and went directly to the office. 

"Hi, Padre," Abbey called to the man sitting behind the desk. 

"Abigail, good to see you. Who's your friend?" 

"This is Ray Vecchio, old friend from the old neighborhood and currently a member of the Chicago police department. He's working with me on the serial murderer case." 

"Then you're probably here to see Mr. Willis." 

"If we could." 

"He's over in the church playing the organ. Such a lovely job he does. I think I may be able to get him a job at another parish." 

"Wonderful." 

"The church is unlocked. Go on over there and have your talk with the man." 

As they walked from the office, Ray asked about the history of the mission. 

"Padre is a retired FBI agent. After he joined the priesthood, he was sent to this parish. He knew the problems law enforcement had when the homeless witness a crime. They may give you information but then they disappear. So he worked with the bureau to set up this homeless shelter/safe house. Granted, it's not in your precinct but I'm surprised you haven't heard of it. I know it's available to all the law enforcement agencies in the greater Chicagoland area." 

Ray searched his memory and came up with a fuzzy recollection. "So this is a real shelter?" 

"Yes, but a very low profile one. Folks in the neighborhood know the Padre generally has room for a few people if needed. But you're not likely to find it on the rolls of any of the big social services agencies." 

As they opened the door to the red brick building, the sound of organ music swelled to fill their ears. Both officers' eyes grew wide with amazement at the sound. When the music ended there was a brief silence before Abbey finally spoke up. 

"Wow. Now that was a joyful noise." 

Mark Willis looked at them as they walked across the sanctuary towards the organ loft. 

"Oh, sometimes I feel like I'm just makin' noise joyfully." 

"Hi, Mr. Willis. How's it going?" she asked. 

"I've gotta hand it you, young lady. I didn't think I'd like it here but it's not so bad." 

"Father says he might be able to find you a job as an organist somewhere." 

"Yes, that would be nice but I don't hold out much hope." 

Abbey placed a gentle hand on the man's shoulder and looked directly into his eyes. "You must never give up hope, Mark." 

Ray could almost see the confidence that she imbued the man with through her words, her gaze and her touch. 

"Okay, I won't," he agreed. 

"Good, now I've got a couple of pictures I'd like you to look at and see if any of them look familiar." 

She placed the photos in front of the gentleman on the organ's music rack. He adjusted the light and stared intently at each of them in turn. He set aside one fairly quickly and returned to comparing the other two. After several minutes of intense scrutiny, he sighed heavily and shook his head. 

"I'm sorry miss. I'm just not sure. I think it might be this guy," he said tapping the right hand photograph, "but they both look a lot like." 

"Yes, they do. But why did you discount this other man?" 

"Oh, he's got a wart on his nose. I don't remember the guy I saw as havin' any warts." 

Ray and Abbey exchanged a significant glance. 

"Thanks Mr. Willis," Ray said. "You've been a big help." 

"You're welcome. And thank you, missy, for sending me here." 

Abbey smiled at the man. "My pleasure." 

As they walked out of the church the music from the organ pipes swelled to fill their ears again. The structure of the five chords stopped Abbey in her tracks. She spun and looked back at the organ loft. 

"Mr. Willis," she called, "would you please play that again?" 

He complied and looked at her. The agent's eyes were closed in concentration." 

"Abbey?" Ray asked gently. 

She held up a hand to forestall his question. 

"One more time, please Mr. Willis? But a little faster," she requested, her eyes still closed. 

Upon hearing the chords for the third time, she smiled briefly and then looked at Ray. 

"Let's go back to my office," she suggested. 

They drove back across town, fighting the beginnings of rush hour traffic. Ray cursed fluently in both Italian and English all the way to the bureau's field office in the Federal Building. But shortly after they arrived, she was on the phone with George. 

"Abbey, I was just about to go home." 

"Sorry big guy. I've got work for you. First I need you to remove a wart from one of our suspects and then shoot me a picture. Second check out all our guys for any connection to railroads." 

"Railroads?" 

"Yeah, it's a long shot and it may be a red herring but I'd feel better if we checked it out." 

"Okay Abbey, but you're gonna owe me big time for this one." 

Her voice became soft and teasing. "Send me the bill, George. You know I always pay my debts." 

She giggled as she disconnected. Ray felt a surge of jealous anger course through his veins and Abbey was instantly aware of it. She didn't know if she should say something or just let it go. She decided on the latter and continued to stare at her computer waiting for the new picture to download. It was hard for someone of her empathic abilities to ignore the blatant hostility Ray was exhibiting so finally she put her hand over one of his as he stood behind her leaning against her desk. 

Within minutes, his anger and jealousy dissipated but she still kept her eyes on the computer. So tight was her focus on the screen that she didn't see him lean towards her. So the gentle yet sensual kiss he placed on her cheek that it startled her nearly out of her chair. 

"I'm sorry, Abbey," he apologized. 

"Don't be. It wasn't unpleasant or unwanted; just unexpected." 

Ray looked around the office to make sure that they were alone. He leaned over again, this time wrapping his arms around Abbey in a loose embrace. He kissed the side of her neck and nibbled softly on her earlobe. He smiled when a small moan escaped her. She tilted her head back and gave him access to her willing lips. They kissed for several minutes, each becoming more passionate. He released her mouth and pulled her to a standing position before resuming the kiss. The ringing of the phone interrupted them. 

"Abbey," she announced. 

"Hey kiddo. What ya doin'?" 

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, George," she answered, a soft blush staining her cheeks. "What have you got for me?" 

"Well, the altered picture is on its way to you. And where did you come up with the railroad connection?" 

"In a church. Why? Did it pan out?" 

"As a matter of fact, it did. Steve Boatright spent four summers working for the Southlake Car Works company when he was in high school and college. The company's out of business now but they refurbished cars for freight trains." 

" 'I've been workin' on the railroad'," Ray muttered under his breath, looking at the picture Mark had very tentatively identified. 

"No connections on our other two?" Abbey asked her colleague in Atlanta. 

"None so far. His was the first to pop up. I'll let you know if I get any more hits." 

"Thanks George. I'm gonna head out to supper so if you need me, call me on the cell phone," she said as she abruptly terminated the connection. She didn't want to face another episode of Ray's jealousy. 

The look Ray shot her had nothing to do with jealousy. It was, however, full of disbelief. 

"You're going to supper? We have a suspect to find and interrogate and you're going to supper?" 

"Yes, Ray. I'm going to supper. Look at the guy's file. His last known address is in Kankakee. That's a little out of your jurisdiction..." 

"But not yours." 

"And the information is also old. Even if we did go down there, I don't think we'd find anything. Now, I promise you that first thing in the morning, I'll call the Kankakee County Register of Deed's office and see what I can find. And I'm going to take the pictures back to Mr. Willis for another look just to be sure. But in the mean time, I'm going to fax copies of what we have to both the 27th and the 23rd precincts so everybody else knows what we do. Or, if it will ease your mind, I'll even take them over in person. But nothing is going to be accomplished if we starve to death." 

"I suppose you're right." 

"Thank you." 

"And it would ease my mind if we dropped off the stuff in person. Elaine's pretty good about getting things to us but I don't know what kind of civilian aides they've got working over at the 23rd." 

"Would you like to join me for dinner?" 

"Sure. I'll call Ma and tell her I'm bringing you home with me." 

"Oh no, Ray. I can't impose on your family like that; especially on such short notice." 

"What imposing? Ma's been on me for two days to bring you over. You know she always makes too much food the way it is. Think of it this way. If you come over and join us, you'll be helping to keep my trim athletic figure." 

She looked at him closely and decided that in the interest of his continued good health, she couldn't refuse him. She liked his trim athletic figure and wanted to make sure he'd have it for some time to come. 

"Okay, all right. Call your mom. But tell her not to wait for us. That's where I draw the line." 

Abbey hadn't eaten dinner with the Vecchio's in nearly twenty years. Sitting at the table watching the family's interactions, she contemplated the changes that had taken place in that time. Ray's dad had died nearly six years ago but it seemed that Maria's husband, Tony, had taken over his role as loud mouthed bigot of the family. Francesca whined about how long it had been since Fraser had come to dinner with Ray. Ma Vecchio made polite excuses for his absence, but Ray contradicted by telling Frannie that the Mountie would probably visit more often if she'd quit throwing herself at him like some Siamese cat in heat. And the argument ensued from there. 

Abbey did what she could to not be affected by the emotional aura that filled the Vecchio dining room but there wasn't much she could do. It was several minutes before anyone noticed that she had discretely left the room in search of some place quieter. For a brief moment there was silence before the accusations of who drove her away started to fly. Ray got up and went to look for his friend. He found her sitting on the front porch swing, her head bowed and her body shuddering with suppressed sobs. He joined her on the swing and put his arm around her, protectively pulling her close to him. He didn't say a word, but he rocked them both gently until she quit shaking. 

"I'm sorry, Ray. It's just one of the side effects of being an empath. Strong emotional situations can be pretty overwhelming, especially when you let your guard down." 

"Aww, you didn't really take all that stuff seriously, did you? You know how my family is." 

"Yeah, I do. That's what made it so painful. There's so much love in your family. It's amazing that you actually have three generations still living under one roof. You know, I love my life and I'm generally happy with the choices I've made, but right now I'd trade it all in if I could have my family back together again. Aunt Shirley and Uncle Mike have done a pretty good job of convincing everyone that I ran out on the family when they needed me. I suppose they're right about the running part. But at only eighteen years old, I can't see that they particularly needed me. I'd have been leaving for college in three months anyway. Or maybe they just expected I'd go live with them in Champaign and attend the University of Illinois. I don't know. But for whatever reason, when I attended Joyce's wedding three years ago, everyone was pretty cool towards me." 

"Was that the last time you saw everybody?" 

"Yeah, when I was in Urbana a few weeks ago on this case, I made an attempt to get together with them but they didn't seem to be available when I was." 

"Wow, that's amazing. Of course, if you're ever feeling like you need a family, Ma's always considered you her third daughter." 

Abbey smiled wickedly for a moment. "I suppose that would make you like my brother?" 

"The feelings I have for you are far from brotherly," Ray whispered before he kissed her. 

"Ray and Abbey, sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G...," Tony Jr. sang out to them from an open window. 

"Oh God, we're busted," Abbey groaned in embarrassment. 

The next moment Abbey felt worse for Tony Jr. than for herself. The poor boy suddenly had both his mom and his grandmother yelling at him telling him how rude it was to spy on his uncle and to be eavesdropping on Ray and Abbey's conversation. 

"But Mom," the boy protested, "how am I supposed to learn?" 

Whatever answer she might have made was masked by the sound of Ray and Abbey's laughter. 

"Well, I can see that any future necking we may wish to engage in certainly won't be done here." 

"So you want to go back to your hotel?" 

"No thanks, Ray. Not yet. If we left now, what would your family think?" 

"That I was going off to make love to an insanely beautiful woman?" 

"Precisely. Let's just hang out here for the rest of the evening. In fact, let's go do the dishes for your mom." 

"What? You want to ruin my hands by putting them in hot soapy water?" 

"That's exactly what I want. And then when we do get back to my suite, I'll take care of them properly," she promised. 

"It's a deal." 

Ray practically had to pull his mother out of the kitchen to let them take over. She protested loudly that guests should not have to clean up after a meal. 

"Ma, she's an FBI agent. Don't make me have to make her hurt you." 

The older woman glanced fearfully at Abbey for a split second and then handed her the apron that had been tied around her plump waist. Abbey donned the garment cheerfully thinking that her mother had worn one just like it. She tossed a dish towel to Ray. After surveying the kitchen, she suddenly realized the downside to having all three generations of Vecchio's under one roof. Five adults and two children generated a lot of dishes. The only thing Abbey had seen since she left home that rivalled this were the mess halls at the various bases she'd been posted to. 

It was nearly an hour later when the last pan was dried and put away and Abbey was sweeping up the kitchen floor. Ray's mother tentatively stuck her head in the doorway and surveyed the situation. A broad smile encompassed her face as she saw a sparking kitchen. Abey looked up and noticed the woman standing there. 

"To your satisfaction?" she asked. 

She was answered with a nearly smothering embrace. "It's wonderful Abbey. Thank you." 

"Hey, I helped too, you know," Ray pouted. 

"As well you should. After all, you live here." 

Ray stared at his mother in disbelief for a moment. Then, shaking his head, he took Abbey by the hand and they returned to the porch swing. 

"God, I miss this," Abbey sighed. 

"Miss what? Doing dishes?" 

"No, the old neighborhood." 

He looked at her quizzically. 

"Not so much the actual neighborhood itself but what it represents. The feelings of closeness, of community, people who watch out for each other's kids." 

"Nothing like that in Atlanta?" 

"Not where I live. Just a bunch of yuppies in our condo's. I barely have a porch, let along a swing to put on it. 'Boxes full of ticky tacky' as the poem says." 

"Sounds lonely." 

"Well, I never really thought so until recently. I mean, David and I quit seeing each other almost a year ago and I got over that. It didn't really hit me until just before I got on this case. I think being back in Illinois has intensified it a lot." 

"So what happened just before this case?" 

She had feared he would pick up on that. "Oh the bureau sent us up to Quantico for some workshops. One of the team buidling exercises made me examine who I trust." She discreetly chose not to mention the connection she'd felt with George. 

"And I'm guessin' that there aren't a lot of people you trust?" he probed. 

"It's not easy. I've been virtually on my own since I was 18. I trust the people at the VCTF headquarters in Atlanta, but even that took a while. I don't trust all my fellow FBI agents." 

"Do you trust me?" he asked softly. 

"You know I do," she replied looking deeply into his hazel green eyes. 

She thought about how easy it would be to get lost in those eyes. She wondered why she'd never noticed them before. It must have been his hair. Now that he kept it cropped so short, his eyes really stood out. Those eyes held her gaze for several minutes before Ray lowered her head to kiss her again. This time, though, she didn't let herself sink totally into his display of affection. 

Affection was the overwhelming feeling she picked up from him. That feeling surprised her. For as much as they might joke about it, in some ways he did feel like a brother to her. She didn't sense any random lust from him. He truly cared for her. She thought about that for a moment and about her feelings for him. 

In truth, she had hardly thought about him for the past several years. Whenever she'd been in Chicago, she had briefly considered looking up his family but had never taken the time. And, to be perfectly honest with herself, she knew that if they hadn't met three days ago in Lt. Welsh's office, she'd have eventually gone back to Atlanta and not thought any more about him. 

Ray released her lips and leaned his forehead against hers. "Where are you?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Where'd you go? I felt like you weren't entirely here with me." 

"That obvious, huh?" 

"Or else some of your abilities are rubbing off on me." 

"I'm sorry, Ray." 

"So what were you thinking about?" 

"Life...liberty...the pursuit of happiness." 

"Whose life, liberty and happiness." 

"Your's," she said only telling half the truth. 

"Mine? Why are you thinking about that?" he asked incredulously. 

"You said it yourself. We're practically like family. Why wouldn't I be concerned about your happiness?" 

"Okay, but why are you thinking about it now?" 

"Hmm, good question," she replied. She just wished she had an equally good answer. "Well, it seemed like a good time to do it. You know, here we are, swinging on your front porch, an activity that makes me happy. I guess I just started thinking about your life and happiness. So, what makes you happy?" 

Ray had not expected this question. It was all he could do not to blurt out the first thing tha tcame to his mind. He started rattling off things like his car, catching criminals and his mother's cooking. All the while he was afraid of admitting his feelings for Abbey. Just being with her on the porch swing, holding hands made him deliriously happy. But he didn't know if the feeling was mututal. He feared that any confession of his feelings would cause her to back off and at this moment he wanted to go forward. With a gentle hand on her chin, he tilted her had up and kissed her softly. 

"That also makes me happy," he stated, taking a small chance. 

"It's nice to know that. Would you mind taking me back to my hotel now? I'm getting a little sleepy." 

"Sure." 

The drive back to the Hyatt was a silent one. Abbey let her head fall back and closed her eyes accepting sleep. Ray glanced over at her every so often. He wondered if he had crossed a line tonight. He couldn't imagine anything he could do to the old Abbey that would cause her to close off from him. But this was no longer the Abigail Bigna he'd gone to school with. This Abbey flirted aggressively and unconsciously. It was like a second form of communication with her. This Abbey had an even tougher hide than before but he wondered just how soft that tender spot inside her was. That spot that she'd only briefly shown him tonight. 

As always, he escorted her up to her suite. He opened her door and then stood back to let her pass in. She did and then looked back at him when he didn't follow. 

"I'm sorry. Did I forget to hand you your engraved invitation? Come on in, silly," she chided him. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Very sure. I promised I'd take care of those dishpan hands for you." 

"You don't have to do this Abbey." 

"Of course, I do. I always pay my debts. And besides, I want to." 

"Are you sure you're not too tired?" 

She smiled at him seductively. "That's why I took a nap on the way over here." 

They sat down on the loveseat and Abbey examined his hands very closely. The long elegant yet strong fingers spoke to her of the caresses they could make. She was surprised to see that they were in pretty good shape. Most men didn't take good care of their hands and then wondered why women didn't want to be touched by their aligator like skin. After a few moments of close scrutiny she uttered a single "hmmm" before going to the bathroom and coming back with her manicure bag. As she set out on the coffee table the implements she knew she would need, Ray began to protest. 

"Oh, no. I'm not one of your girl friends and we ain't doing this make over thing." 

"Oh Ray, get a grip. Have you seen even the first bottle of nail polish?" 

"What's that?" he asked pointing to a small clear bottle. 

She rolled her eyes. "It's almond oil for your cuticles. Now calm down and let me do this for you." 

He eyed her suspiciously but acquiesced. Soon she was rubbing the oil over his nails and massaging his fingertips. She picked up a small orangewood stick and gently nudged the thick skin back from the nails. She inspected her work closely and finding it suitable, she picked up a file and began shaping his nails. She noticed that they were longer than most guys' she knew, but they seemed to fit him perfectly. Once the nails were shaped to her liking, she found a buffer and put a high shine on them. Lastly she pulled out a small jar of a very rich moisture creme and began massaging small dabs of it into his hands with smooth strong strokes. 

He was amazed at the strength of her hands as they held his. She held his hands in a way that splayed the fingers open and allowed her to work the muscles thoroughly. She flipped his hand over and began working on the palm side. He watched as she never looked up from her work; never meeting his eyes. She concentrated solely on the hand that was held so gently yet firmly in both of hers. And when one hand was done, she didn't look up at him when she asked for the other one. He wondered what was going on inside her head. 

Thoughts were racing through her brain at the speed of sound. She had just spent the past several minutes examining these hands, wondering how they would feel on her naked body. What kind of responses would they raise as they touched her skin? For the past forty-eight hours she had looked at this man several times and wondered what it would be like to take him as a lover. Forty-eight hours of anticipation and it all came down to this minute. So why was she suddenly overcome with a wave of shyness? 

She'd given up her virginity over fifteen years ago to a fellow airman at England Air Force Base in Louisiana. And since then, she couldn't remember feeling like this. It was all so inexplicable. This was Ray, her best buddy from high school. He'd told her and shown her tonight that he was interested in making love to her. By all objective criteria, he would make an excellent fuck buddy. So why the hell was she holding back now? No matter, there was a dark, primal spot deep inside her that said it was time to end the speculation. 

Finishing her massage, she gathered her things back into the vinyl bag. Kissing him gently on the cheek, she stood up and and walked to the bathroom. There, she considered her options. She didn't have many. She'd never been one for sexy sleepwear and she wasn't sure she had anything in the closet that would be considered seductive. Well she'd just have to improvise. She stripped down to her very brief panties and then pulled on a black clingy tank top that she normally wore under her nicer suits and looked at herself in the mirror. Well, it probably wasn't an outfit Cosmo would endorse but she figured Ray was smart enough to figure out what she had on her mind. She quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, skipping the rest of her usual nightly ritual and walked out of the room. 

Ray's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw her. This was definately not the Abbey he knew from high school. The old Abbey would never have worn anything so provacative. He remembered how she had always worn her Speedo during the summer when the other members of the girls swim team had traded the racing suits in for bikinis. He felt himself react in a most normal way to the petite package of blatant sexuality that walked towards him. The tank top molded itself to her body, stretching of the round fullness of her breasts, not quite hugging her abdomen before stretching again over the swell of her hips. He could see the barest hint of skin between the bottom of the tank top and the top of her black satin bikini panties. He knew he should say something but at the moment words eluded him and all he could do is stare in slack-jawed wonder. 

"What's the matter, Ray? Cat got your tongue?" 

He simply nodded as she sat down on the sofa next to him. 

"Here, let me see if I can get it back for you." 

She leaned into him, kissing him lightly. He responded instantly and felt her mouth open under his. Within seconds their tongues were probing each other's mouths. She felt him moisten her lips with his tongue and she returned the gesture. His mouth slid to her ear, gently teasing the lobe before moving on to nibble on her neck. An almost silent moan escaped her lips when she felt his hands caress her shoulders and arms. She had underestimated the powerful feelings those hands could generate. She felt her chest tighten and goose bumps pop up all over her flesh. She wanted to return his caresses but found her every move cut off by one of his. He was clearly intending to arouse her deeply before he let her loose. 

The ringing of the phone interupted them, but only for a second. They looked at each other and without saying a word agreed to ignore it. Ray continued his consensual assault on Abbey's body, letting his fingers lightly trail from her arms to her chest. He traced the top line of the tank top and marveled at the deep cleavage that was quite obvious. He began to kiss the exposed skin when his jacket pocket emitted a mechanical chirpping He considered ignoring that too, but then Abbey's cell phone began to ring at the same time. They looked at each other for just a moment and sighed before answering. 

"Yeah?" was his salutation. 

"Abbey," she answered. 

"Yeah, she's with me." 

"Vecchio's here." 

"We're on our way, Jack." 

"Thanks, Phil." 

The two officers looked at each other for just a moment, a look of understanding passed between them that Ray expressed as Abbey went to her closet to get dressed. 

"Ain't work a bitch, some times." 

It didn't take long for the pair to arrive at the 23rd Precinct. Dewey and Kowalski had picked up one of the suspects near a gay bar and had begun questioning him. Actually, Dewey was questioning. Kowalski was accusing him not only of the murders but also of every foul and licentious act he could think of. Abbey's hackles raised at this kind of treatment. She knew that most criminals would not respond to a velvet glove even when it was covering an iron fist. But she was still of the opinion that you caught more flies with honey than with vinegar. 

She took a look at the suspects file and noticed that this was not her first choice among the three likely candidates. She knocked briefly on the door to the interrogation room before she entered. 

"Detectives," she greeted them pleasantly. 

"Abbey," Dewey responded in kind. 

"Yeah," was all Kowalski said before he continued to harass Mr. Torkilsen. 

"Gentlemen, could I see you in the hall for just a moment?" 

Kowalski shot Abbey a dirty look and continued his flow of invectives. 

"Now, detectives," she added putting some mental weight behind her words. 

Dewey grabbed his partner and pulled him out. It was all Abbey could do to remain calm. She had specifically instructed all the detectives working on this case that no one was to question a suspect unless she was present. Though he very much wanted to help his friend, Ray stood back and watched her deal with the two detectives on her own, ready to provide backup if she needed it. 

"Would you please tell me what in hell you two thought you were doing in there?" 

Kowalski had an unpleasant smirk on his face. "Well, you see, this is an interrogation room. And so it must follow that we were interrogating the witness." Sarcasm dripped like acid from his tongue. 

Abbey knew that if she had to deal with him any longer, she'd be tempted to reach down his throat and rip out his lungs. Still trying to control her anger, she addressed his partner. 

"Detective Dewey, can we continue this discussion at your desk?" she asked in the most reasonable tone she could muster. 

"Sure. This way," he indicated. 

Kowalski started to follow them but Ray chose to block his progress and pass along a few words regarding the wisdom, or lack thereof, of crossing Special Agent Barnes. 

Shortly, Abbey and Dewey were seated at his desk and chatting companionable. 

"So detective, tell me exactly what happened before Ray & I arrived here?" 

"Sure, if you'll answer one question for me first." 

"Certainly. What?" 

"Why do you call him Ray and yet you call me Detective Dewey?" 

Abbey was taken aback by this question but was glad she had a simple answer for it. "I've known him for over twenty years. We were buddies growing up on the west side." 

"Oh well, I guess that makes sense." 

"So, what happened tonight?" 

The detective went into a lengthy discourse on how they'd gotten the information she'd taken to the precinct earlier and how they'd seen the man pacing the sidewalk in front of the bar for quite some time. It wasn't until after he'd finally walked in that the two detectives had followed him and convinced him to accompany them to the station for questioning. 

"And what was his mood when you got him into the room?" 

"His mood?" 

"Yes, was he cooperative? Was he belligerent? Sad? Mad? Glad? Scared?" 

"What relevance does that have?" 

"Detective, my job is not only to build a psychological profile of the killer, but also to eliminate possible suspects until we find the right one. It's very difficult to do that if you and your partner have altered his state of mind from the time you found him, which is why I specifically told you to never question a witness unless I was present. If he is the killer, I'm going to have a really hard time getting through to him now. So the next best thing we can do is to try to get him back to the same mental state he was in when he arrived here." 

The detective stared at his desk, suddenly finding it difficult to meet her eyes. He felt as though he were five years old again and had been scolded by his mother. Abbey picked up on some of the shame he was feeling and mildly regretted the admonishment she'd given him. She reached out and put her hands next to his on the desk, knowing that touching him at this moment would be misunderstood. 

"Tom?" 

He raised his head to look at her as he answered. "Yes Abbey?" 

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "His state of mind?" 

It was nearly five minutes later when the two officers returned to the hallway outside the interrogation room. Abbey had no idea what had gone on between Vecchio and Kowalski, but the disheveled detective gave her a wide berth. She walked into the room alone to question the suspect. 

"Watch this," Ray said having witnessed Abbey's exemplary interrogation techniques before. 

The three men stared through the two-way mirror, listening via the intercom system. Mr. Torkilsen didn't stand a chance. Within minutes Abbey had him eating out of the palm of her hand and telling her things that, though interesting, suggested to her that he wasn't the killer. He appeared to be just another guy trying to screw up the courage to come out of the closet. But she wasn't ready to let him off the hook yet. 

She nodded at him and stood up. When she turned to walk out of the room she made sure to turn away from the mirror where she knew the detectives would be watching. Somberly, she walked out the door. 

"Hold him until we can get Mr. Willis down here for a line-up," she instructed the two detectives. 

"Ray?" she said. "Take me back to my hotel please." 

Ray nodded at his fellow officers and followed her out of the station. 

"So what did you say to Kowalski while I was gone?" Abbey asked as they walked to her suite. 

"Oh, I threatened him with bodily injury," Ray said easily. 

"You didn't!" she said, her voice full of surprise. 

"Yeah. I told him that if he ever pulled a stunt like that again, you'd rip out his spine and beat him to death with it." 

"Ah well, that seems only fair. But how did he take it?" 

"I don't think that he'll give you any more problems." 

Ray expertly manipulated the lock on her door and let her enter first. He stepped inside behind her bud didn't close the door. 

"You gonna be okay tonight?" he asked. 

"I think the better question is how I'm gonna be in the morning after so little sleep. If I don't get my eight hours, I'm a wreck. And I don't remember the last night that I got more than six hours under my ear." 

He kissed her gently on the forehead. "I'll be here to pick you up at 8:00 a.m." he promised and then walked out. 

Abbey muffled a scream of frustration. Was he doing this to her deliberately? She'd never known a man to be such a tease. If she hadn't been so tired, she would have pulled him in to finish what they had started earlier in the evening. But for now, it was all she could do to pull off her clothes and drop into bed. 

Abbey sat at her desk in Chicago's FBI field office. Her posture and her facial expression read "depressed". Agent Ford had been heard to say that he expected a gray cloud to appear over her head and begin raining. 

Mr. Torkilsen's line-up did not go well. It had been very difficult to find four other men who fit the same description so that he wouldn't be an obvious suspect. Abbey could only take solace in the fact that Mr. Willis had not been able to identify any of the men as the one he'd seen in the factory that night. Her money was still on Boatright but he was proving to be quite illusive. 

The Kankakee county Register of Deed's records showed that the land he owned there had a sheriff's lien slapped on it for non- payment of property taxes. The sale was scheduled for Saturday. Abbey had half a notion to attend and see if he showed up though she knew that was unlikely since all legal correspondence regarding the sale had gone undelivered. 

Abbey continued to stare dejectedly at the photograph on her desk. Everything in her body screamed that he was the one. No other background check had revealed any connection with railroads or rail transportation. She knew she had to be missing something, somewhere. Someone had to have current information on this man. 

"God, what am I missing?" she said to no one in particular. 

A Tootsie Roll landed on her desk. Before she looked up to see its source, she heard a familiar voice say, "Chocolate. The fifth food group." 

She managed a weak smile as she raised her head. "Thanks, Ray. I can't believe you remembered." 

"Yeah well, that's just dessert. First you have to eat your lunch." He held up a brown paper bag, similar to the one that had carried yesterday's meal. She smiled more enthusiastically and gestured for him to have a seat. 

"Tuna or chicken salad?" he asked. 

"Chicken." 

"Regular or barbecue chips?" 

"Regular." 

"Two kosher dills for you and one bottled water," he said as he doled out the final items. 

"Thanks Ray. I owe you big time for this." 

"What are friends for. Besides, I figured you needed some down time and it was no big deal to take Mr. Willis back to the Padres. So what did you find out about our other suspect?" 

"Not much. The house in Kankakee has been vacant for quite some time. In fact, it's being put up for auction Saturday to pay the back taxes. I'm still trying to figure out how we can find this guy, not just sit around waiting for him to strike again. That was where you came in and I was whining in frustration." 

"Well, let's take some time to eat lunch and then we can talk about it." 

They ate their sandwiches and talked about how much Chicago had changed over the years. Abbey had only been back for brief visits but Ray had been there through it all and he had some terrific stories. He'd seen the Bulls' dynasty come to pass as well as the Bears' Superbowl win in 1986\. Sadly, he had yet to see the Cubs win a pennant but there was that close call in 1984. 

Once sandwich wrappers and potato chip bags were thrown away, Abbey looked again at the file on her desk and sighed. "Where are you, Steve?" she asked the picture. 

"Start at the beginning," Ray suggested. 

"Huh?" 

"Start at the beginning. Why is he a suspect?" 

"Well, he worked at that factory until it closed down six months ago. The uncle and the cousin who molested him as a child lived in Urbana and Normal, the two towns where the other murders occurred. He fits the description Mr. Willis gave us. And he worked for Southlake Car Works." 

"And why was he in the FBI's database?" 

"He was charged with assaulting a co-worker he thought was gay." Abbey flipped through the pages of information that George had sent over with the picture. With eager fingers she pulled out the information on the trial. 

"Look at this!" she exclaimed. "He was tried and found innocent. His defense attorney made a case for 'Roid Rage and the jury said he was not responsible for his actions." 

"What's 'Roid Rage?" 

"It's an alleged side effect of the misuse of anabolic steroids. Excessive testosterone levels build up and cause the user to become violent." 

"Steroids?" 

"Oh, come on Ray. You don't think he got that body without some help, do you?" 

"Hmm. I guess I never really thought about it." 

Abbey continued to read the report in silence. Ray watched as her lips move in sequence to the words she was scanning. The thought of those lips moving across his body produced a small but unmistakable ache in his groin. He watched as her attention shifted to the small computer she had set up on the desk. Her fingers flew over the keyboard in a frenzy of information gathering. A look of intense concentration on her face made him aware that she had blocked him out and was oblivious to his lusty ideas. He tried to stifle those thoughts but wasn't having much luck until... 

"Holy Mary, Mother of God! I am such a fucking idiot!" 

Ray's attention was snapped back forcefully by Abbey's exclamation. 

"Ray, you're right. The FBI has made me soft. I've gotten so good at being a profiler that I'd forgotten how to be a police officer." 

"What?" 

"After Boatright was found innocent, he sued the maker of the steroids and the gym where he purchased them." 

"So?" 

"So, the drug manufacturer just settled out of court." 

"You're kidding. They're paying that scum?" 

"Thank God." 

"What?" 

"Yeah, now all we have to do is follow the money to our guy." 

"And how do you think we're going to accomplish this?" 

"With the power of the federal government." 

Abbey's fingers continued to dance across the keyboard of her laptop computer. Within minutes she had sent her request to Washington to get the necessary information from the court records. She knew she'd have to work quickly to find out where to money was being sent and when. While waiting for a response, she took another look at the file and then looked again at Ray. 

"Well, well, well. Look at this. The gym where he bought the steroids isn't too far from the 27th. I think I may just have to go pay them a visit." 

"Not without back-up you don't." 

"Ray, if he's filed a law suit against them, I hardly think he'd still be working out there." 

"I don't care. I know that gym and it's not a place I'd let any woman walk into unescorted. And don't give me any lip about you being a trained police officer. Cuz down there, that won't make any difference to anyone. It's just a bad neighborhood, period." 

Abbey knew she could argue this point until she was blue in the face but it wouldn't stop Ray from trying to protect her. She just nodded her head in ascent and, grabbing her bag, walked towards the door. It took a moment but soon Ray was hot on her heels. 

"You realize the guy's gotta know we're on to him by now," Ray said as they drove to the gym. 

"Most likely. And it would explain why there haven't been any other murders. God, I just hope he's still in Chicago and hasn't moved on yet. 

"Well, maybe we'll be able to catch him through the information in the settlement." 

"From your mouth to God's ear," she prayed. 

The trip to Leo's gym was only marginally profitable. Abbey's assumption that Boatright wouldn't continue to patronize a business he had sued but some people there had heard he now worked out at a different gym. This one was close to the abandoned factory. Ray smiled when he heard the name of the other establishment. He'd been there before with Fraser and he knew the manager. They were leaving Leo's when Abbey's cell phone rang. 

"This is Abbey," she said. 

"Damn, we can't wait that long," she replied to the voice on the other end of the phone. 

"Okay, thanks anyway, George," she said as she walked back to Ray's car. 

"Settlement is schedule to be made next month via electronic funds transfer to Boatright's lawyer." 

"And of course, the lawyer will claim privilege and not give us any information." 

"I see you've played this game before." 

"Too many times." 

"Now what?" she asked. 

The detective shot her a look that spoke volumes about what he wanted to do now. 

"Uh, Ray, not that I'm not interested, because I am, but we are on the clock right now. Why don't we check out this other gymnasium and see what we can find?" 

"You know, for a 'big picture person', you're getting pretty involved in this investigation." 

She smirked. "Blame yourself. You're the one who said that working for the Bureau had made me soft." 

"Hey, I was teasin' ya." 

"Yeah, I know. But the truth is, you're right. I've gotten very used to letting everyone else do the scut work while I sit back and just try to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. In fact, most of the time once, I've identified a suspect, I'm out of the loop until he or she is caught and brought in for questioning." 

"Really?" 

"Yup. But you know, sometimes I miss the real police work.. I know it's not glamorous, but it is satisfying." 

"I know what you mean," he agreed quietly. 

The interview at the second gym was slightly more productive. Ray was still in awe of the way Abbey could charm even the crustiest old codger into giving her the information she sought. They learned that Steve Boatright worked out there on a regular basis though no one had seen him for two days. However, the one piece of information she really wanted, no one seemed willing to give her. Was he still taking the steroids? She suspected he was. It would account for some of the brutality he'd shown his victims. 

The two old friends kept watch on the gym until it closed. There was no sign of their suspect. Ray arranged for Hughes and Gardino to continue the stakeout in the morning. Then he made one more phone call. 

"Maria, yeah. Hey, tell Ma I'm not gonna be home tonight. I've gotta pull a stakeout tonight. See you in the morning." 

Abbey looked at Ray dumbfounded. "And what was that all about?" 

He leered at her comically. "That was me making' sure we had some time to be alone together, off the clock. Unless you object?" 

"Oh no. No objections here. When we get back to the hotel, I'll order up room service." 

"I'd rather just nibble on you," he admitted as he started the engine. 

"Ooh." She shivered as his words made goose bumps pop up on her arms. 

Abbey was surprised that he didn't drive like a mad man back to the hotel. In fact, he wasn't driving in his usual maniacal fashion at all. He acted as if he were out for a leisurely Sunday drive. She wondered if he had any idea of how frustrating she found this. One look at him confirmed her suspicion. The grin on his face told her all she needed to know. He knew he was driving her crazy. 

Once in her suite, the door had barely shut before Ray pulled Abbey into his arms. He kissed her passionately; letting his hands wander all over her body. He felt like he was eighteen and in Lucy San Angelo's basement again. Abbey returned his passion with some of her won. Her lips opened willing under his. Her hands kneaded the firm flesh of his butt. When he released her lips to kiss the side of her neck, she moaned softly. She let her hands slide up his chest, under his suit coat and heard him respond when her fingers brushed across his sensitive nipples. Mentally cataloging that spot, her hands continued to slide upwards until she reached his shoulders and slid his jacket off his arms onto the nearby sofa. 

He backed away from her long enough to get a firm grip on the cotton sweater she wore. In one swift move it left her body and joined the jacket on the sofa. 

"Oh my," he exclaimed as he saw her two breasts, barely restrained by the lace bra she wore. For a petite woman, Abbey had always had large breasts, a fact that had caused her no end of embarrassment as a teenager. It had been a fellow airman at England Air Force Base in Louisiana who had first shown her how to not only accept what God had graced her with, but also appreciate them. And now Ray was equally as appreciative, if not more so. 

"So, under that tough as nails, 'don't mess with me' attitude, there really is a softer side to you," he commented as he lightly brushed his fingers over the well-formed cleavage. "Are there panties to match these?" 

"I suppose you'll just have to find out," she taunted him. 

Nimble fingers released the buttons of his shirt from the buttonholes. She luxuriated in the feel of the Egyptian long staple cotton that made up the fabric of the shirt. When it was removed, it was her turn to admire his chest. A smattering of dark hair trailed from his collarbone, down between and slightly under his pectoral muscles. She ran her fingers through it and sighed with appreciation. Then she let her hands wander all over his bare chest and back trying to imprint on her senses the feel of his skin. She noticed a scar on his shoulder. It appeared to be deliberately made; no random knifing here. She touched it with gentle fingers and silently questioned him with her gaze. 

"Took a bullet saving Fraser from a crazed doctor," was all he said. 

"I see you're wearing a crucifix. Is that the one Sister Theresa gave the class when you completed catechism?" 

"Yeah, I didn't wear it for a long time but now I am. It keeps me safe, kinda like a good luck charm." 

"Well, you're certainly gonna get lucky tonight." 

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear you say that." 

He quickly unfastened her pants and slid them over her hips. She stepped out of the trousers and made a grab for his. Within seconds, they were rolling on her bed, only her lace bikini's and his snug maroon briefs keeping them from being totally naked. No words passed between them. They explored each other with their other senses instead. 

It was times like these that Abbey's empathy skills were well utilized. She could not only feel her body as it moved against hers, but also the emotions that moved inside him. She felt great passion, deep affection and a sudden stab of apprehension. 

"Um, Abbey?" 

"Yeah, Ray?" 

"This is kinda an awkward time to be asking this but, um..." 

"I'm on the pill, HIV negative have no sexually transmitted diseases and condoms are available if you want them." 

"How did you know what...? Oh, never mind. I forgot who I was dealing' with." 

"Not a smart thing to do, but I'll forgive you if you'll go back to kissing my breasts again." 

He complied, begging her forgiveness. In time, they were totally naked. Ray groaned as she held his long slender length in her hand. When she moved to take him in her mouth, he stopped her. 

"No, I'm too close." 

"So, then you get your half hour nap and we start over again." It sounded like a great idea to her. Give him his release and then the next go around he'd be able to last a long time. But Ray was not persuaded. 

He rolled over on top of her and began kissing his way down her torso until he arrived at her most intimate spot. It took some gentle coaxing on his part to get her to allow him access to this part of her. It had been a long time since Abbey had found a man who really understood how to pleasure a woman in this fashion. And she had virtually convinced herself that she didn't even like it anymore. 

But Ray proved far more skilled at such intimacies. Soon he had her moaning and writhing in pleasure. Seeing how much she enjoyed this, he increased the intensity of his efforts. His lips, tongue, and fingers moved in concert to bring her to a slow crescendo of pleasure. She shuddered as the first wave of her climax overpowered her. He continued to pleasure her until the tremors that racked her body finally stopped and she weakly whimpered for him to quit. 

He slowly kissed his way back up to her face. Her body was limp underneath him. He held her in his arms and felt her heart beat rapidly against his. Her breasts rose and fell against his chest with each breath she took. 

"Hey," he said softly. 

"Hey yourself." 

"You okay?" 

"Gettin' there. How about you?" 

His answer was a face splitting grin and a kiss that slid from her mouth, to her ear, to her neck. They pleasured each other for quite a while longer. Ray proved to be a skilled and attentive over. She was tempted to pass off her responsiveness to him as just latent horniness and repressed sexual tension but she knew better. Somewhere inside each other's minds and souls, they had met and become a single entity in their pleasure and their release. 

His steady deep breathing was proof to Abbey that Ray was sound asleep. Noiseless, she slid from the bed and tossed on a nightshirt. Digging in her suitcase, she pulled out a leather bound tome, her personal journal and took it into the living area of her suite to write. 

Light kisses; gentle caresses and a soft voice broke through to wake Ray from a deep peaceful slumber. His hazel green eyes, framed by long dark lashes opened to stare into Abbey's face. A smile slowly permeated his face. 

"Good morning," she greeted him. "Breakfast is on its way up so you might want to think about getting some clothes on." 

"Breakfast?" 

"A big breakfast since we didn't eat dinner last night." 

"What time is it?" 

"Nearly seven. I'm all finished in the bathroom if you want to use the facilities." 

Ray looked at her body and realized that it was clothed. He was profoundly disappointed by that state of affairs, hoping for a repeat of their previous night's activities. He pulled her down to meet his kiss and groaned as parts of his anatomy reacted to the feel of her lips on his. His hands began to stroke the sensitive spots he had discovered on her. 

A knock at the door interrupted them. 

"Breakfast," she whispered, leaving the bed to answer the door. 

Abbey waited in the kitchen of the Vecchio home while Ray showered and changed clothes. Tony and Maria's children had slept late and were now stumbling into the room, rubbing sleep from their eyes, looking for breakfast. She helped Ray's mother get them settled at the table and brought them bowls of cereal, fruit and glasses of milk. She munched on a piece of toast while Ray's nephew told her of his plans to build a clubhouse with some of his friends. 

"You'd make a good mother, Abigail," she heard Ray's mom comment as the woman walked in from the back porch. 

"Thanks, Mrs. V. But I'd never be as good as you or my own ma. Besides, it's not like I've got guys beatin' down the door wanting me to bear their children." 

"That's because you don't stand still long enough to let them. Ray's told me about the way your work keeps you traveling all the time. Maybe you should look for a new job. Maybe come back to Chicago." 

So, the woman was still doing the matchmaker bit. "Oh, but Mrs. V, it's such important work. And I'm really good at what I do. I just can't see giving it up without a fight." 

"C'mon, ma. Abbey's a big girl now. She doesn't need you running her life for her." Ray's voice drifted in ahead of his arrival from the dining room. 

Mrs. Vecchio turned her attention to her son. 

"What would you know about a mother's concern for her children, Mr. Gotta-Be-Out-All-Night-On-A-Stakeout?" 

Ray knew there was no winning this argument. So he simply nodded at Abbey and the two of them left the room together. Neither of them said a word as they went to Ray's car. But once they were on the road, Abbey let out a whoop of laughter. 

"So, Ma Vecchio is trying to get you to settle down and raise a family?" 

He nodded, pleased at her perceptiveness. "Yeah, she's not very happy that Maria is the only kid who has given her grandchildren." 

Ray's cell phone rang and he answered it while continuing to drive. "Yeah?" It was his usual greeting. "You're kiddin'. Oh man, that's great. We're on our way." 

Abbey looked at him expectantly. "What?" 

"Huey and Louie picked up Steve Boatright on his way into the gym this morning. They just arrived at the station. And no one will be allowed to speak to him until I get you there." 

Abbey felt the adrenalin surge that coursed through her. "Finally," she said with barely contained excitement. 

Walking into the squad room they found Jack at his desk. 

"Where is he Jack?" Ray asked. 

"Number one." 

"How was he when you brought him in?" 

"Cool as a cucumber. Says there must be some big misunderstanding and that he'd be happy to come down and answer your questions." 

Ray and Abbey both looked stunned but stranger things had happened to both of them. Abbey dropped her bag at Ray's desk and joined him outside the interrogation room. The friends smiled at each other and then Abbey opened the door and walked in. 

The first thing Abbey noticed when she got inside was an overwhelming sense of rage. The second was that she didn't see their suspect anywhere. It wasn't until the door shut behind them that she realized they'd been ambushed. Steve Boatright grabbed her roughly and spun her around to put her body between him and Vecchio. One armed wrapped threateningly around her neck. The other held a knife at her back. 

Ray's reflexes were lightening quick and he had his gun drawn on the suspect in seconds but knew this wasn't an ideal situation. Boatright dwarfed the petite agent so Ray had plenty of open body to hit. But he knew that any aggressive act he took could cause his friend to be skewered. 

"Let her go, pal," he urged with quiet intensity. 

"Put the gun down," was his adversary's demand. 

"Not 'til you let her go." 

"Put it down on the table and back off," the big man yelled. 

Abbey felt the cold steel of the blade start to pierce her skin. "Do what he said, Ray," she ordered. 

"I'm not lettin' him do this to you, Abbey." 

"Damnit Ray! Let me handle this," she screamed, partly from the searing pain that had started in her back. 

Ray saw a look flash through her eyes that he couldn't translate. But he did as she requested. 

"Okay, buddy. The gun's down. Now let her go." 

"Not on your life. She's my ticket outa here." 

"Mr. Boatright," Abbey said through the pain, "think about your options for a moment. First, we can sit down and talk for a while. When we're finished, we could find that we don't have enough evidence to hold you and you'd be free to go." 

Ray watched his friend carefully. Something was wrong with her but he couldn't tell just what. Perspiration had beaded on her forehead and the color was seeping from her face. But her eyes showed intense concentration so he just kept one eye on her and one on the man who held her hostage while she continued to speak. 

"Or we might find that we do, in which case you'd be arrested and you'd go to trial. Now that's not necessarily a bad thing for you. You've been through a trial before. You were found innocent. You know a jury would not likely find you guilty now. It's not your fault. You were hurt as a child; betrayed by your family. Your uncle and your cousin abused you in a most horrendous fashion. I can't imagine what that would be like. But I do feel your anger and your pain. Then again as an adult, you were the injured party. No one warned you what the steroids could do to you. And no one warned you that the damage they caused could be permanent." 

She thought she detected a subtle shift in her captor; thought she felt him release his grasp on her ever so slightly. Then a noise outside the room startled him and the pain in her back began anew. She knew she wasn't going to be able to keep this up much longer. She just hoped Ray was paying attention to what she was saying. 

"Or Mr. Boatright, you have another option. You can kill me." 

She heard Ray's gasp of surprise but she pressed on. "You can continue to plunge that knife right on into my back. The downside of that option is that I would then fall over dead and the detective would be forced to shoot you." 

Ray couldn't believe his years. It sounded so much like something Fraser would say. He blinked twice trying to make sure the hostage in front of him was actually Abbey. 

"So what's it gonna be? Do we sit down and talk? Or do we both die in this room?" 

Steve Boatright was scared. A part of him knew she was right thought. A jury had found him innocent before. He could get off again this time. But he'd have to live long enough to do it. And killing a cop wasn't a good way to ensure a long life. He was willing to give it a try and the other cop seemed willing to go along with whatever she said. All he had to do was let her go. 

The door to the room banged open, surprising all of them. For a split second attention was diverted from the hostage situation. Ray was the first one to look back. What he saw startled him even more; the look of intense pain and shock on Abbey's face and the look of horror and disbelief on Boatright's. Abbey began to collapse and Ray took that instant to grab his gun from the table and shoot Steve Boatright. 

Suddenly the room was full of people alerted by the sound of a gunshot and the shouts of the uniformed police officer who had opened the door to begin with. Ray release Abbey from the hold of Boatright and then saw the survivalist's knife that was plunged hilt deep into her back. 

"Officer down. Get a paramedic in here now." 

Abbey's hand was grasping blindly for something. Ray couldn't tell what but he took her hand in his. "Hang in there, Abbey," he encouraged her. "Help's on the way." 

"Don't let me go, Ray," she pleaded as she held his hand in a tight grip. She could feel the life force slipping faintly from her body. She tried to find the place where they'd joined last night in those few moments to become one. If she could find it, if she could make her way back there, she just might be able to tap into him and draw enough strength to keep herself alive long enough for the doctors to get to her. 

"Don't let me go, Ray," she repeated as she kept searching. 

"I won't, Abbey. I'm right here with you." 

The paramedics arrived with their usual dispatch. Shortly thereafter she was being lifted onto a gurney and wheeled out. One of the medics tried to get Ray to let go of her hand. 

"Don't tell me, tell her," he shouted realizing that even if he let go, he didn't think Abbey would. 

Abbey had found that spot and was siphoning off as much power as she felt she dared. "Don't let me go, Ray," she said over and over again. All the way to the hospital in the ambulance, she repeated it like a mantra. Ray remained at her side, holding her hand and promised to stay as long as he could. 

When they arrived at the emergency room, Abbey still held on to Ray's hand. It was her lifeline and when someone wrenched her fingers from his, she screamed in terror. Ray's heart nearly broke with the sound of that cry. A nurse placed a gentle arm around him and led him to a waiting area, explaining that as soon as Abbey would be taken up to surgery as soon as possible and that she'd come get him at that time. 

Hours later, Ray sat in a different waiting room. This one sat outside the surgery suite and was quite a bit more comfortable by physical standards. There were other people in the room too. They had spoken briefly a few words of sympathy and encouragement to each other and then gone back to their own private ruminations. A man in green scrubs and a surgical cap walked in the room. 

"Abigail Barnes?" he asked quietly. 

Ray looked up. The man motioned for him to follow out of the room. The doctor led the way to a smaller, unused waiting room. 

"I'm Dr. Hal Broderson. I'm head of the Shock/Trauma unit here and just finished operating on your wife." 

"Oh, she's not me wife. She doesn't have any family to speak of. I'm Ray Vecchio, an old friend of hers." 

"Well, Mr. Vecchio, this is a classic bad news, good news situation. There was considerable damage to her right kidney. We did the best we could but I can't guarantee that it will ever be 100% functional again. The good news is that God blessed us with two kidneys so as long as she takes care of herself, that shouldn't be too much of a worry." 

"Why do I feel like there's more bad news coming?" 

"I'm afraid there is. When I speak of shock/trauma, I don't mean just the physical injury. I'm also referring to the blow to the vital energies of a patient. Ms. Barnes has taken quite a beating there. She's being moved out of recovery into the Intensive Care Unit now but it's still very much a touch and go situation. We've won the battle but we may yet lose the war. You say she has no family?" 

"Not in Chicago. And none that she's particularly close to." 

"Well, just in case, it would be a good idea if someone were informed." 

"Thanks, doc. When will I be able to see her?" 

"I'll have the nurse come get you once we've got her settled." 

Abbey found herself surrounded by...nothing; just a big black emptiness for as far as she could see, or in this case, couldn't see. Not knowing where she was she decided to walk, slowly and deliberately in case there were any obstacles in her path. She walked for what seemed like an eternity and yet couldn't make it out of the inky void. When she grew tired, she sat down and rested before trying to go any further. But something inside her seemed to be urging her own. Finally, she got up and started to walk some more. 

"Ray?" 

The detective looked up to see Elaine Breisbiss standing near him, a cup of coffee in each hand; one being held out to him. 

"Thanks Elaine. But why are you bringing me coffee? Why aren't you back at the station?" 

"Ray, it's after six. My shift is finished. I came down here to donate blood. We heard they used a lot getting Abbey through surgery so there are a lot of people here. From what I hear, Lt. Starr has even got some people coming over from the 23rd." 

"That's really nice Elaine." 

"Yeah, you'd be surprised at all the people who volunteered, even Sneaky Pete herself." 

"Alex Peters? God, I thought she was a vampire, not a donor." 

"Yeah well, believe it or not, you've got a lot of people at the precinct who like you, even if they do give you a lot of guff from time to time. Everybody knows how close you and Abbey are so by extension, she's got a lot of friends too." 

"I hope so. She's gonna need all of them." 

"What's up?" 

Ray told her what Dr. Broderson had said about the injuries, both to her body and her psyche. He rubbed his hands across his scalp and let them fall limply back to his lap. Elaine took one of those hands in hers. 

"We'll all say a prayer for her," she stated squeezing his hand. 

"Thanks." 

Abbey continued to walk until the blackness gave way to a swirling grey fog. Whereas before, there had been only silence, now there was a low din, like many voices speaking softly far away. Though the visibility around her had improved, it still wasn't good so she continued to walk slowly. She listened closely trying to pinpoint the source of the noise, to no avail. It seemed to be coming from all around her, as if she were in a sphere of sound. 

"Detective Vecchio?" 

Ray looked up again. This time there was a nurse standing in front of him. 

"You probably don't remember me. I'm CJ Larson. I was here when your Mountie friend was brought in a while back." 

Though she looked familiar, he couldn't really place her but he wasn't going to let her know that. "Oh yeah." 

"Ms. Barnes is all settled in if you'd like to come sit with her for a while." 

"Thanks." 

He followed the woman across the hall into the ICU. CJ pointed towards a room in the left hand corner. Ray walked in not quite knowing what he would find. Abbey laid flat on her back, IV's inserted in her right arm. Something small and white was clipped to her ear and and a something else was wrapped around her upper arm. 

Ray turned around and looked at the nurse. "What's all that stuff?" 

"She's getting intravenous fluids as well as her medication. When she comes to, we'll set her up with a morphine pump to let her handle her pain medication. There's a blood pressure cuff that's set to check her pressure automatically every fifteen minutes. She's also got a lead hooked up to her chest to monitor her heart rate." 

"What about that thing on her ear?" 

"Checking her oxygen levels. It's amazing the technology that's available to us today. Used to be we'd have to draw blood to check a pulse ox level. Now we have a clamp we can apply to the finger or the ear." 

Ray was overwhelmed by all the technology. "So now what?" 

"Well, there's a chair that's not too uncomfortable, I'm told. Go sit with your friend. I'm sure that when she comes to, she'd be more comfortable seeing your face than that of a stranger's." 

"Thanks," he said as he took the seat and watched the monitor above Abbey's bed. 

"I'll be at the desk if you need anything." 

"How long can I stay here?" 

"Well, regulations say 15 minutes every two hours. But if you behave yourself, I think we can make an exception." Her eyes twinkled at him, letting him know that the exception would be made, no matter what. 

For Abbey, the fog continued though the din had gotten just a little louder. She still couldn't pinpoint its source but she walked on in the same direction. Occasionally the din would be replaced with a single word that she could hear but not understand, as if it were being spoken in a foreign language. Once again she sat down to rest for a while, trying to gather the energy necessary to go on. 

"Mr. Vecchio?" 

Ray looked up startled. He didn't think he'd fallen asleep but had to accept that possibility. He expected to see Nurse Larson again but this was a different woman. She wore green scrubs like Dr. Broderson but had a white lab coat on over them. Her name tag was partially obscured by the lapel of her coat. 

"Um, yes?" 

"I'm Dr. Victoria West. I work with Dr. Broderson in Shock/Trauma. I was just checking on your friend here." 

He looked at her puzzled. Her accent told him immediately that she was no native to the Windy City. But his exhaustion wouldn't allow him to make the identification. 

"So how is she?" 

"Not well, I'm afraid, Mr. Vecchio. Her vital signs, though steady, are a little weak. Did Dr. Broderson explain to you about the full impact of Shock/Trauma?" 

Ray nodded his head. 

"Well, I'm afraid we may be losing the war. I've adjusted her medication which should help. But I want you to be prepared for the worst, because it's still a very real possibility." 

"Thank you doctor." 

She patted his arm comfortingly. "I'll check in again before I go off rounds. How are you doing?" 

He tried to put on a brave face but he knew she'd see right through it. "I'm hangin' in there." 

"If you need anything, just let the nurses know. Fortunately, it's just Ms. Barnes and one other patient up here tonight." 

"Thanks again, doc." 

"You're welcome," she said as she turned to leave. 

Ray settled back into the chair and continued to stare at the monitor. "C'mon, Abbey. You can beat this." 

Abbey stood up from her rest break and began walking again. Eventually the fog began to dissipate and settle around her feet. And the atmosphere around her began to brighten. Feeling better for the improved scenery she quickened her pace and began heading for what she perceived to be the source of the light. 

Ray sat on the edge of his chair and leaned his arms on the side rail of Abbey's bed. He stared at her for a long time. From somewhere in his memory he recalled the advice to talk to coma patients. He couldn't remember where he'd heard it and for all he knew it could have been from some television sit-com. But for the past hour, he'd been talking to God and didn't seem to be getting any response from that section. So he figured talking to a person in a coma couldn't be any worse. 

"Abbey, come back to me. I promised I'd stay with you and here I am. You kept telling me not to let you go. Well, I'm here and now you're trying to leave. You can't do that. There are too many bad guys out there that still need to be caught. We need you here, girl. Don't leave me, Abbey. Stay with me. Stay here with me. You can't leave. Not after last night. And certainly not like this. You solved the case. That means we gotta go celebrate. But we can't celebrate with you in a coma. Come back to me Abbey, and I'll take you to dinner at the Berghoff." 

Abbey felt like she was walking on a cloud. Ahead there was the source of the light. It was warm and inviting and felt so good after being in the cold damp fog that now hung at her back. She raced toward it, only to be stopped by a voice she hadn't heard in seventeen years. 

"Stop Abigail." 

"Mama?" 

"That's right sweetheart. Now stop. Don't come any further." 

"But why not? Ma, I want to be with you." 

"I know you do. But it's not your time." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Do you remember that song you used to love, 'Turn, Turn, Turn'?" 

"Yeah." 

"Remember the words. 'There is a time to every purpose under heaven'." 

"So what's that got to do with me?" 

"It's not your time. You're not supposed to be here yet." 

"Who cares? You're here. I'm here. I assume Pop's here too. What's so wrong with that?" 

"Oh Abigail, a lot of people care. George, John, Gracie, Bailey. They all care. Ray cares. Ray cares a lot. And so does his family as well as practically every cop you've ever helped. You've got to go back." 

"But Ma, what would I be going back to? Life on the road where I can never make any long term plans because I may have to fly out on a moment's notice to help some yokel in East Underwood find a serial killer? No, there's no reason for me to go back. I want to stay here." 

"Honey, if you wanted to die, why didn't you do it at the police station? Why did you grab Ray's hand and fight for the power to live?" 

Abbey thought about that for a moment. "Because I was scared. I was afraid of death. I didn't know it was going to be so nice here in the afterlife. If I'd known it was going to be this easy to get here, I'd have given up earlier." 

"Well, that may be but it doesn't negate the fact that there's 'a time to be born and a time to die' as your song says. And this simply isn't your time. You must go back." 

Though Abbey had been stationed in many different places throughout the world and had learned a lot about the prevailing religious faiths, she had never bought into the theory of predestination. There was no all knowing entity who moved her around like a pawn on a chess board. Her life was of her own choosing and now she chose to end it. 

"No can do, Ma. There's nothing for me to go back to." 

"Abigail, stop and listen for a moment. Listen with your heart and I think you'll find that you're wrong." 

Mrs. Bigna recognized the stubborn look on her daughter's face. She had often told people that the child had been born with that look. She got it from her father's side of the family. As stubborn and willful as any mule, the Bigna's were. And Abigail had gotten it in full measure. But she knew her daughter would eventually listen only because her mother requested it. 

Abbey released an impatient sigh that told her mother what a collosal waste of time she thought this was and stood with her weight on her right leg, her left foot tapping restlessly. She listened first with her ears and heard nothing. Then she did as her mother asked and quieted herself enough to listen with her heart. 

Ray continued his one sided conversation. He thanked her for all the times she was willing to cover for him and Irene when they had snuck off together. He admitted that he'd taken her to see 'Young Frankenstein' just so he could put his arm around her during the scarey parts that never materialized. When he told her how much her graduation speech had moved him and how he'd taken the words to heart when he decided to become a police officer, he reached out and took her hand in both of his. 

As Abbey listened, the din quieted and the words became more distinct, no longer as though being spoken in a foreign language. She recognized some as prayers for her return to health. Others were simply wishes passed in conversation from one to another for a speedy recovery. And one voice stood out from the rest. 'Come back, Abbey. We've still got some unfinished business to take care of.' 

Abbey felt something brush against the skin of her left hand. She turned back into the mist and saw another hand had reached out for hers. A look of astonishment broke over her face as she looked back at her mother, who was no longer there but whose voice could still be heard. 'It's not your time. Go back.' 

"Come on, Abbey. You can't go like this. I've never seen you give up on anything yet. Don't let this be the first time." 

Eyelids fluttered and Abbey's pulse rate jumped ten beats per minute but remained steady. The change in the monitor brought CJ from her spot at the desk into the room. 

"What happened?" she asked Ray. 

"I don't know. I was just sittin' here talkin' to her and she acted like she was going to try to wake up." 

"Well, keep talking to her. I'll page Dr. West." 

Ray continued his monologue but this time it was filled with more heartfelt encouragement than before. He was like a track coach urging on a long distance runner. 

"Ray?" Abbey said so weakly that he didn't hear it. 

Ray continued with his cheerleader routine. 

"Ray?" she repeated trying to put more force behind it. 

Ray thought she might have said something but wasn't sure so he kept up the verbal motivation. 

"Ray!" she finally got out loud enough to make him stop. 

"What Abbey?" 

"Shut up, Ray." 

"Understood." 

Dr. West came into the room at a fast jog. She looked at Ray expectantly. He smiled at her, the first smile he'd felt since he'd gotten to the police station that morning. 

"She spoke to me. She told me to shut up." 

Dr. West made an examination of her patient. She didn't want to burst the detective's bubble by telling him that Abbey's words may have been nothing more than an admonition to quit badgering her and let her go. Sadly, she'd seen it happen before. 

"Ms. Barnes. Ms. Barnes. Can you wake up for me please? I want to talk to you for a moment." 

Abbey's eyes opened again and looked first for Ray. Once finding him she looked back at the doctor. 

"Yeah?" 

"Do you know where you are?" 

"In a hospital?" 

"What's your full name?" 

"Abigail Louise Bigna Barnes." 

Dr. West looked at Ray for confirmation. He nodded. 

"Good. How are you feeling?" 

"Pretty woozy. And my back hurts a little." 

"Do you know why?" 

"Yeah, some nut case thought he'd make a shish kabob out of me with his hunting knife." 

"Good. Are you going to stay with us now?" 

"Yeah, but I'd really like to get back to sleep." 

"That's fine. I'm going to arrange for you to have some pain medication and I'll check back on you later." 

The doctor made a few notations on the chart and then looked at Ray and nodded for him to follow her out of the room. 

"Well, Mr. Vecchio, I'm not sure what you did, but you're to be congratulated. I really didn't think we'd see a happy ending to this one." 

Ray was never one to take praise well. He looked at the floor for a moment. "Yeah, well, I've known Abbey since Jr. High. I guess I just knew how to motivate her." 

"Yes, well, we'll keep her up here in ICU for a few days and then transfer her to a normal room. We've still got to keep an eye on her kidney functions but I'm not so afraid that we're going to lose her anymore." 

Ray walked back into Abbey's room and stared down at his old friend. He picked up her hand and gently kissed the back of it. 

"Not tonight, dear. I've got a backache," she said. 

"You're supposed to be asleep," he admonished gently. 

"Then quit waking me up." 

Three days later, Abbey had been transferred to a private room on another floor. She was working with a group of therapists to get her functional again. And she prayed for the day when they'd take the foley catheter out of her and let her go to the bathroom on her own. She hated having to take the darned bag with her whenever she had to leave her bed. Ray had been in to visit her every day and she welcomed his visits. 

Sitting on her bed on the fourth day, she was staring out the window at the beautiful spring day in Chicago wishing she were anywhere but inside. She heard the sound of hard soled shoes on the linoleum floor. She looked over to see Detectives Dewey and Kowalski approach. She smiled at the visitors and was surprised at the bright bouqet of spring flowers they had brought her. Iris and grape hyacinths combined to make a fragrant addition to her window sill. 

"Thank you both. That's very sweet of you." 

"Yeah, well, we heard about what that creep did to you. And it's no fun to be stuck in a hospital. So we thought we'd do what we could to try to cheer you up," Kowalski explained. 

Abbey turned her brightest smile on the blonde detective and reached for his hand. 

"Thank you very much. You've succeeded." 

He stared at the floor for a moment. "I know we didn't get off to a very good start so I was thinkin' maybe that I should cut you some slack." 

"Since I did suffer a life threatening injury?" she teased him gently. 

"Yeah." 

He did have a rather engaging smile when he chose to use it. She smiled back at him and then turned her attention to Tom. 

"So, what's on your case load now? Anything a bored, bedridden federal agent can help with?" 

Abbey had one more surprise in store for her that day in the form of a visit from her superior officer, Bailey Malone. After complaining about the food, Ray had brought her in some pork lo mein and fried wanton's from a nearby chinese restaurant. She was happily scarfing down the soft noodles and vegetables when she saw Bailey's head peek in around the corner before he walked in. 

"Hey, champ." 

"Bailey. Pardon me for not standing up and giving you a hug but..." she indicated the table that held her dinner which was rolled up over her bed. 

"That's okay." He leaned over and gave her a gentle embrace. 

"Bailey, this is my old buddy, Ray Vecchio, detective with the Chicago police." 

The man shook Ray's hand and introduced himself. "Bailey Malone, VCTF." 

"So what brings you up from Atlanta now?" Abbey asked. 

He laughed as if the answer should be obvious. "Oh, I had to come check up on one of my agents, try and make sure she didn't get herself hurt." 

"Too late," Ray and Abbey said in unison. 

Ray excused himself to let the two federal agents talk. 

"Okay, Bailey. Why are you really here? I know Maddox and the doctors have been keeping you apprised of my condition. What's so all fire important that you had to make a trip to the Windy City over? And don't bullshit me." 

"I, of all people, know better than that. The truth is, I've got some news that's gonna be a little rough on you. You're being temporarily suspended pending an inquiry by some very high level people at the bureau and OSIR." 

"What?!?" She nearly choked on her lo mein. 

"Calm down." 

"Don't tell me to calm down. You said I'm being suspended. For what reason?" 

"It's just the way this case ended has some people very nervous about your Talents. They want you to go back to the OSIR for some further research." 

"Research? Don't you mean they want a lab rat? Bailey, how could you sell me out like this?" 

"Abbey, I had nothing to do with this. I fought it tooth and nail. From every account I've heard, you were doing fine. It was the local police who screwed up. But there are those who disagree with me and think that your Talents need to be more refined." 

"And what are you going to do for a profiler?" 

"They're sending down a new profiler, Dr. Samantha Waters, from Quantico." 

"So, I have no say in this matter." 

"Not really, no." 

"Yes, I do. I quit." 

"You what?" 

"You'll have my resignation on your desk by the time you get back to Atlanta. Or if you want to make it official now, get me a piece of paper and a pen." 

"Abbey, don't do anything in the heat of the moment that you'll regret later. Take some time and think about this." 

"I'll think about it, but I won't change my mind. And I won't regret it either. I nearly gave my life for this job. And I'd do it again in a minute. But I won't be subjected to the indignities of of an 'inquiry' and more mental poking and prodding by OSIR. It's obvious by the fact that the powers that be in Washington have already got a replacement for me that I'm no longer needed." 

"Abbey..." 

"No Bailey. Don't. I'm not holding you responsible for this. And I'll miss everyone in Atlanta terribly. But this is the way it's gotta be." 

"I hope you change your mind, champ." 

"Thanks but I won't." 

Four weeks later Ray and Abbey were standing at the departure lounge in Chicago's O'Hare Airport. After being discharged from the hospital, Abbey had stayed with the Vecchio's while she continued her convalescence and tried to decide what to do with her life. 

It was clear that the FBI didn't know how to use her talents. Ray had tried to talk her into staying in Chicago and becoming a private investigator but that didn't appeal to her either. For now, she was going back to Atlanta to make her resignation from the FBI official. She wanted to say good-bye personally to her friends down there. She felt she owed them that and she wanted to meet the new profiler. 

"I really wish you'd change your mind, Abbey." 

"I know Ray. And I may yet come back to Chicago. But for now, I've got things to do in Atlanta." 

"I wish we'd had more time together." 

"Ray, I've just spend the past three and a half weeks living under the same roof with you. How much more togetherness could you want?" 

He leered at her invitingly in answer. She felt a familiar ache creep up on her. She, too, regretted that they'd only had the one chance to make love. But he was ever considerate of the wound in her back and never broached the subject of another tryst. 

"Okay, how about this? I promise that once I get things settled back home, I'll call you and make plans to take a vacation together. We can go anywhere and do anything you like." 

"Anything?" 

"Anything," she promised. 

The public address system announced the first boarding call for her flight home. Abbey hugged Ray tightly, kissed him passionately and then picked up her carry-on bag to leave. 

"Wait a minute," he said reaching behind his neck. He unfastened the crucifix that had hung from his neck and walked towards her. 

"Oh no, Ray, I can't." 

"Yes, you can. I want you to have it. I want to make sure you stay safe. You can give it back to me when we go on that vacation." 

He fastened the clasp behind her neck and watched at the gold figure hung low on her chest. 

She smiled at him through the tears that had begun to moisten her eyes. "Thank you, Ray. I'll never take it off." 

She hugged him again. "I love you, Ray." 

"Love you too, Abbey." 

He watched as she boarded her flight and stayed there until he saw the jet taxi down the runway. With a sigh, he looked up at the arrival boards. Fraser's flight was still listed as on time. So he walked to the appropriate gate, and waited for his friend. 


End file.
